#anyway unsure if any of this makes sense but it's been rattling around in my brain all week so here's the exorcism attempt

[ellieellieoxenfree]

it’s going to be nearly impossible to coalesce four days of scattered thoughts into something coherent that i can be pleased with, but let’s give it a shot. this is, eventually, relevant to this gifset.

i recently read the hours have lost their clock: the politics of nostalgia, which was overall a solid read but that also gave me significant food for thought when discussing the weaponizing of nostalgia and propaganda during wartime. after all, what is yiyun meng other than a constant state of war? ai di and chen yi live their lives permanently in the us-vs-them binary state of survival thinking.

grafton tanner writes, ‘as a concept, the home is associated with nostalgia as much as ‘the past’ is. that’s because nostalgia is partly an emotional abstract for physical security. home is where you’re supposed to be safe. if nostalgia provides a makeshift comfort away from home, then home is the place to which you could return to let down your nostalgic guard and finally relax. home for many people is a familiar haven, untouched by the harsh reality that made them nostalgic for it in the first place. and the yearning for a home is strong both for those who have a home to return to and for those who don’t. but if the home becomes tainted, if the harsh reality on the outside penetrates the home’s interior, then there will no longer be a safe place to return to.’

he further quotes psychologist harriet b braiker, who pointed out that in the aftermath of september 11, americans turned to a place of wounded retreat. ‘to a very significant extent, we are closing out the world, staying home and cocooning.’

drawing into oneself as a defensive measure primes you for surrendering control to someone else in a position of power or leadership. to place yourself in the fight-or-flight mode means that you’re not thinking clearly long-term. you’re thinking of how to get by and how to keep yourself safe in the immediate circumstance. and it allows you to be exploited. tanner points out that in post-9/11 america, bush and his cronies were able to manipulate people’s fear into wild government overreach and twist the perception of the country into ‘a place under assault, in need of aggressive defense from shape-shifting dangers.’ (this particular bit is quoted from journalist masha gessen, not tanner, within the text.) framing america as ‘the homeland’ was a neat bit of trickery that posits constant vigilance and defense as a moral imperative for all of its citizens. a homeland not vigorously defended at all times is at at constant risk of being destroyed or absorbed by the enemy. thus, as gessen writes, ‘anxieties are heightened; you never know where the threat will come from next. long periods of boredom are punctuated with bursts of violence. in the homeland, every day is war.’ (emphasis my own.)

and, as tanner adds, ‘there is no war to secure the homeland, no victors and losers, because there will always be another enemy.’ this part is crucial. the concept of the enemy can always be shifted or reshaped to fit whatever new threat an elite class dictates is most pressing. (a threat, of course, can also be manufactured wholesale — for example, continuing the discussion of america, many threats are brought down by relentless imperialism and overseas meddling.) but a group under siege, real or imagined, is a group easily controlled or manipulated. loyalty is instilled and strengthened through fear.

to finally bring it back to kiseki, whose loyalty is better shaped than a group of malleable children? i think constantly about the lines ‘you gotta keep her thin and hungry / so she’s eager for your love’ w/r/t chen dong yang, who we see canonically has a pattern of raising child soldiers. in episode 3, we see xian (aaron lai) and shuo (hank wang) as fully grown men still vying for the approval of their boss — and we see the way he volleys between throwing them crumbs of affection and casually, callously dismissing them. he first teases them and offers them dinner, and then, once they’ve overstepped and try to discuss gang matters with him as equals, he doesn’t hesitate to slap them back down into place. ‘if you are like this, how can i trust you with my japanese business?’ he points out at their cockiness and recklessness. (in comparison, ming lei is an ass, but he holds no pretensions about what he is, and his openly sour disapproval is almost refreshing in the face of CDY’s shifting, snakelike maneuvers.)

he toys with the affections of the boys in his care, always holding his approval just slightly out of reach and knowing full well they’ll continue to strive for an impossible ideal. xian and shuo have the advantage of being established and in love and not pursuing his romantic attentions, unlike chen yi, but they’re not immune to the need for parental approval. they attempt to approach CDY as worldly-wise — judging chen yi’s performance as a leader and bragging about their own gang histories — but it smacks of a little boy running to his father and desperately begging for attention and kindness. please tell me i did a good job. please tell me you’re proud of me. i’ve done so much and fought so hard for you. don’t you love me?

xian and shuo are in the same boat as chen yi and ai di — raised to be soldiers in a never-ending fight, pliable in the hands of someone older and (allegedly) wiser who promises safety and protection in the face of the enemy. chen yi, especially, as second-generation yiyun meng, knows no other home than north hall. he knows no other life than endless warfare in service to CDY and ming lei. the sick irony of all of it is that CDY offers himself as a safe harbor — i’m your father, i’m looking out for you — but he is the reason they’ve been in danger their entire lives. the home he created for them is built on flimsy foundations. he gave them a place to stay and helped raise them, but never gave them a stable foundation, and neither of them had a frame of reference to realize how abnormal this was. chen yi would never have known another type of life; ai di was raised, and ostensibly abandoned, by addicts. to an outside observer, the fact that CDY gifts chen yi leadership of north hall at seventeen is fucking nauseating. but to chen yi, this is probably an incredible gift — it’s a path forward, it’s something dependable, it’s a sign that he’s trusted and reliable.

all of these things combine to create an us-vs-them mentality. trust lies entirely with the father/leader figure who knows best; those outside of the world cannot be trusted or inducted, for various reasons. zong yi is one end of the spectrum; he cannot be part of this world because it’s unsafe. zhang teng is part of the gang world, but he cannot be trusted because he is the enemy. he is the dog fighting over the same table scraps. much like post-9/11 americans, the members of yiyun meng have a moral imperative to fight and defend against zhang teng and his men to protect not only themselves, but their own homelands. they have been conditioned to view the survival of yiyun meng as above their own lives. (in ai di’s storyline, you cannot separate death from who he is as a person. the threat of sudden death is so ingrained in him that ‘i love him enough to die for him,’ he tells ze rui in episode 4. sacrifice to the point of death is the highest expression of love. and that’s because he’s been trained not to see himself as a person. he is a pawn for the motherland. regardless of his fractious relationship with CDY, ai di is awash in the constant propaganda that he is secondary to yiyun meng — and chen yi is the face of his branch of yiyun meng. it’s a very messy cocktail. die for the man you love, die for the homeland, finally make something valuable of yourself. you gain personhood and autonomy by ending your own existence as a person.)

the conversation with chen yi about zhang teng immediately frames ai di and zhang teng as two sides of the same coin, but there’s a crucial difference. what we, as an audience see of ai di, is sympathetic, because we get depth and dimension and see what motivates him. what we see of zhang teng is, depending on the audience member, arguably sympathetic, because we get to, again, see depth and dimension and what motivates him. but chen yi does not see that. that is the crux of it. the conversation about zhang teng killing his parents adds to his character for the audience; it defines him for chen yi and ai di as characters. the inner life we see of zhang teng in canon — his relationship with his sister and the underling who pines for him — isn’t something that’s privy to the yiyun meng members.

and that’s deliberate, both narratively and in-universe, because propaganda depends on one incredibly important factor: dehumanization. zhang teng needs to be considered a monstrous threat who needs to be eliminated for the sake of the homeland, and anything human about him needs to be discarded as unimportant, irrelevant, or actively detrimental to the mission. a soldier who sees the humanity in the enemy might hesitate to pull the trigger. this cannot be allowed if the warfare is to be effective and never-ending. the enemy needs to be faceless. (how many studies are there on assigning personalities to robots and how humans create an instant attachment to them because of it? the instant something has an identity beyond the purely utilitarian, the instinct is to waver. a crane or bulldozer may not inspire human affection, but paint pairs of eyes on them and name them max and molly, and the game changes.)

what chen yi sees of ai di is always going to be colored by the fact that this was a boy he was raised alongside. chen yi scolds him the most but takes care of him the most as well. he was the one to realize ai di was so sick he nearly died. he, far more than CDY, has that duty of care. CDY doesn’t know how to manage this half-feral cat. chen yi is the only person ai di will ever truly respect or listen to, and even that’s dicey. but ai di, to chen yi, is a human being. he was a little boy that chen yi watched grow up. he knows ai di’s history and how deeply the scars of his abandonment run. (ai di makes savage little jibes at it — ‘don’t you need to say goodbye to him? he is your lifesaver,’ he says to ze rui in episode 3 about zong yi, and when ze rui says there’s no need, there’s a momentary flash of pain on ai di’s face that he quickly covers with sarcastic applause and a disparaging comment about ze rui’s maturity. later, after the red riding hood incident, he lashes out at chen yi for his concern. ‘why should i inform you? are you my mother?’ he snaps. ‘my mother doesn’t care about me. why should you?’ it’s bone-deep anguish, leaking out past the layers of jokey self-defense.) ai di hurts as a character — he’s in an immense amount of pain all the time, and it’s what makes him so effective as the teeth of yiyun meng. he is a masterful combination of self-destructive and hurting and he has so little regard for himself that he’s willing to be shaped into the weapon someone he believes to be his superior wants him to be. ai di channels all the pain he feels into violence as an outlet because he doesn’t know what else to do with it. he doesn’t believe he can do anything else with it.

and zhang teng, what we see of him, in limited glimpses, hurts deeply, too. he carries the same scars of parental abandonment that ai di does. when ai di mentions that zhang teng killed his father at only fourteen, it isn’t expanded on. to both him and chen yi, it’s just a sign of psychopathy. of course the monster would do this. (admittedly, ai di seems a bit impressed, but ai di’s morals are questionable at best.) but it’s a tantalizing plot thread to pull on, considering how close he is with sih ning, his sister. their closeness goes back to the very beginning of this — the cocooning away from the world. it’s you and me against everybody. i can only trust you. home is not safe for us. my immediate reaction to those lines was that like chen yi and ai di, zhang teng has never truly known safety or stability, and that he was betrayed by the people who were tasked with raising and protecting him. to kill a man at 14 — to kill your own father at 14 — isn’t something undertaken lightly. the implication to a viewer (at least, a viewer who is interested in looking past the surface propaganda of zhang-teng-psychopathic-irredeemable-villain) is that their father had a very good reason to die. i would put cash money on severe childhood abuse and zhang teng’s killing of him as a way to keep sih ning safe.

what’s fascinating is that zhang teng is half chen yi and half ai di — the fierce older-sibling protectiveness of chen yi, but the sharp claws of ai di (especially considering how brutally ze rui's betrayal cuts through him — this is a man intimately familiar with being let down by the people he thought he could trust). and he’s a fucking tragic figure because of the machinations of powerful men who needed to use him for their own ends. zhang teng dies not because he was wrong, but because he represented a threat to the homeland. he is the nebulous enemy who needs to be stripped of humanity and autonomy in order for the morally just group to achieve their desired total victory. and the further tragedy is that the characters in yiyun meng don’t see him as a peer or a victim, the same way they are. they don’t see him as someone exploited by an apathetic overlord, the way they, too, have been for their entire lives. he is on the other side of the ideological divide and so they can’t afford to give him respect or dignity, because that would cause the entire war machine to fracture and ultimately break down. he is a threat and a monster and something that ceases to be human.

ultimately, i think that’s what chen yi means when he says that’s not what i meant. it’s not about zhang teng being crazier than ai di. there’s a discomfort in comparing someone — something! — like zhang teng to chen yi’s beloved ai di. it veers too closely to the idea that they’re on an equal playing field. zhang teng had parents, yes, as everyone does, but to dig too deeply into the idea of why someone only fourteen would murder one of them is too dangerous. it opens the door to thinking of this monster as human, or hurting, or in the right. to chen yi, ai di’s pain is justified, because he’s seen it and grown up with it and because ai di is as essential to him as his own hands. zhang teng’s pain cannot be given the same grace. if he is even given a sliver of the humanity that ai di has, could chen yi pull the trigger when it truly mattered?

Gosh, he's even crazier than I am. You are different from him.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 08

[aerodaltonimperial]

Lyric prompt

And then I think of yesterday

And every promise that you made

I never thought I'd be the one that you would break

(I'm in a confidence crisis that I cannot write anything good by myself so I'm attempting to work on the skills in myself I know I am lacking on here THIS IS SO LONG AS A RESULT)

The lights flicker, sputter, and go out with an ominous decrescendo before the entire backstage is plunged into darkness. Pitch black, really, because there aren't any windows lining the inner hallways. Hook jams a hand out to the side just to ensure he knows where the wall is, and then breathes. He waits for the power to come back on, and it never does. He's stuck, then, and until somebody comes around with a flashlight, he's going to either have to quietly simmer alone in the dark, or feel his way back to the main staging area, where the production aides most likely have a few battery-operated lights. He doesn't even have his phone, since the damn thing is shoved in his duffel, shoved into the locker that is...somewhere behind him. Fuck.

"Hello?" he tries. No response. A bad time to have been making his way through the hallways, trying to expel the jittery nerves from beneath his skin.

Heading towards the main area seems like his only option, then. With a sigh, Hook starts forward, keeping one hand sliding along the bricks to his right. He can't remember the layout; didn't pay attention, that's for sure. He's so caught up in keeping one foot in front of the other that when a door clicks open in the wall only a hand span ahead of him, he nearly tumbles over in his surprise. "Shit!" Something distinctly hand-shaped hits his forearm. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's not..." The words trail off. Hook knows that voice. "Hook?"

Fuck. Of all people to run into in the dark, in this state... Hook sighs. "Yeah. Hey."

"Danhausen was just trying to get out of the hallways. Perhaps I took a wrong turn."

"Can't see anything, so how would you know?" Hook responds. His chest clenches, bracing for the worst. No choice, then, but to make the best of this. "You can...you can just follow me if you want."

"Hook knows where he's going?"

Hook snorts. "No. But moving is better than standing around."

"Alright. Danhausen will..." A little cough, throaty and unsure. "Uh, Danhausen will follow you."

"Just...hold onto my shirt."

A pause. "Are you sure?"

"Don't make it weird, Jesus."

"Right." Fingers press against Hook’s sleeve, heading down to his side, and finally settle at the hem of his shirt. They clench there, tugging the fabric taut. "Ready."

"Okay." Hook starts moving again. It's weird with the pull along his back, and he tries his best to ignore it, but without other sounds, he's stuck focusing on the ragged in and out of Danhausen’s lungs. Either they do this whole thing in silence, or... "Um, you're wrestling next week? In the 4-team match?"

"Oh. Yes. Chuck and Trent are injured now, you see, and so it just...uh, well, it made sense."

"Right. Cause you're part of the Best Friends." Did that come out too bitter? Shit. Hook’s losing his touch.

Silence swells for a few careful steps as Hook’s palm flattens against the wall for a moment. Then: "Hook is angry."

"I never said that."

"Hook never says a lot of things; it's easy to deduce." A beat. "Why is Hook angry?"

"I'm not..." Hook shakes his head. Maybe there's no use fighting it. "Angry isn't the right word for it."

"What is the right word, then?"

"I don't...I don't know. Something else. Words aren't my specialty anyway. Shouldn't you be able to figure it out?"

"Why would Danhausen know what Hook is feeling?"

Hook huffs out a mirthless laugh. "I dunno, you always seemed to like doing that. Deciding you knew how I felt."

The pause is longer this time, and rattles. Dissonant. Then, quietly: "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

"Hook is angry because Danhausen is part of a group. But Hook just got out of a new tag team." A shaky inhale. "Hook sent Danhausen away because he didn't need help, and then he found help that wasn't Danhausen."

"That's not what happened." Hook's feet stop of their own accord.

"Oh, you didn't send me away, then?"

"No." Fuck. "I mean, I did, but...it wasn't like that."

A little laugh. It sounds miserable. The grip on the back of Hook’s shirt tightens. "What was it like then?"

Hook doesn't have an answer. He starts moving again, because eventually, he has to find where this spindly corridor meets up with the staging area. His throat gums up until he finally wraps his tongue around the right syllables. "I don't...I don't know how to care about people. I mean, that's not..." Frustration swells up hot. "I don't let people in."

"Right. So you didn't let me in."

"No. I did. And then...I don't know how to deal with it."

Knuckles slide against his lower back, muted from the fabric of his shirt. "Oh. So, Hook panicked."

"I...yeah. Yeah, I panicked."

There's a little noise of affirmation. "That's why Hook has such short term teams, isn't it? Hook lets people in, and then leaves."

"No," Hook whispers. His eyes still haven't adjusted to the blackness. He still can't see, and going into this conversation blind is devastating. "No, I don't let the others in. I only let you in."

"If Hook let Danhausen in," the words are measured, careful, and slow, "and then panicked, what was it, exactly, that Hook was so afraid of?"

When Hook fails to answer, Danhausen continues, "What might happen or what did happen?"

"Both."

"A cop out; pick one."

"I can't." He growls. "It's the same thing, in a way, and I don't...I don't..."

"Hook wanted Danhausen to leave."

Hook stops again, squeezing his eyes shut. This conversation is like taking a bullet. "I never wanted you to leave."

"So you wanted me to stay."

Hook swallows. His tongue is thick. "Yes."

"Hook absolutely hates this conversation."

"Yes."

A chuckle, less cutting this time. "Alright. Only one more question, then." The hand that had been pulling on Hook’s shirt lets go, fingers tracing their way up Hook’s spine to settle on his neck, loose but possessive. Hook’s whole body shudders. "What could it be that you want from me, but are so afraid of that you pushed me away in order to save yourself?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Hook whispers.

"It wasn't, no."

Hook is glad the lights are off, because his face is burning. "Sounds like you already know the answer."

"I might have a guess." Warmth puffs against the shell of Hook’s ear. He wants to dive into it and lose himself, drown within the crash of the waves. "But it means more when you say it yourself."

"I don't know how."

"Hook does." The feather-light brush of lips against his cheek. "But Danhausen can make it easier for you. How about a simpler question: what does Hook want?"

"You?" It's a confession and an admission of guilt at the same time.

"Ah," Danhausen says, a little breathless. "Not so hard, then."

"Not hard to say," Hook tries, wildly, "just...overwhelming."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, pretty fucking terrifying, actually."

Another laugh, and then the pads of Danhausen’s fingers are pressing at the side of Hook’s face to turn him. "No swearing."

"Make me stop," Hook whispers.

He can feel the smile against his mouth. "Okay."

Above their heads, the lights flicker, buzz, and then brighten to full, but Hook barely notices.

[skeletonsfortea]

H-Hi! ❤️ I was wondering if you could entertain this scenario that popped into my head after reading your story. What if a month after Ending 1, Papyrus is patrolling around checking his traps when he notices a body almost completely hidden behind a tree. It's sitting down leaning against the bark taking slow even breaths. He gets a closer look, weapon in hand, but stops dead in his tracts. It's… The rattling of his bones causes enough noise to wake them up. Their eyes flutter open and they jump to their feet when they see him. "U-um hello!" He finally takes in their blueish fingertips and the fact that they're shivering violently. "You?" Papyrus breathlessly says in disbelief. "I don't know what's going on, c-can you tell me where all of this is? I fell down a hole and I'm really hurt and c-cold. P-please". He stays completely still, trying to process the impossible. "Please," they whisper again softly, trying to make themselves appear smaller as if sensing his alarm - trying to sooth him, as if he weren't the monster. "D-do you u-understand me?" They question while gently tapping their chest, right where their soul is. "My name is Y/N".

A scenario in which Y/N comes back (through a bad glitch or reset they were caught in or whatever) but without having any memory of what happened prior while they were underground. And yes, the body in their grave has also disappeared.

Dayum. Yep!

"...my name is Y/N."

No. No, you can't be Y/N. He buried you. You're dead. You have been for weeks.

He glances in the direction of your grave, anyway, unsure. It is undisturbed. He shudders.

It doesn't make any sense. Maybe he should tell Sans, he might- no. No, he isn't saying a word of this to Sans. He isn't doing this all over again. He looks back at you. Y/N or not, there's only one thing he can do.

...

Papyrus tells you to stay and heads to the house. When he returns, he gives you the sea tea and takes you straight to the Capitol gates, as far as he can go. He warns you about Undyne and leaves you to fend for yourself without telling you anything about himself.

[minshookie]

All Play, No Work.

Pairing | CEO!Yoongi x reader

Genre | yandere,angst

Summary | “your secret relationship with Yoongi is all smooth sailing,until Mrs Kim gets in the way.”

!warnings! | mature language, workplace bullying, gossip, and infidelity. Also some pretty steamy scenes, for readers 18+.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 2k.

A/N | “I’m so happy you enjoyed “meetings at midnight.” I never really expected over 100 notes that’s crazy! I may have gotten a little carried away with this one but I hope you don’t mind & enjoy it as well. I’ll probably be making a part 2, please take any mistakes as love ❤️”

The disturbing rattle of the air conditioner served as white noise while you toyed with the drooping noodles swimming in the savory sauce placed before you. A few of your coworkers droned on about their plans, their kids and undeserving husbands leaving you alone in the corner of the depressing break room to think about what to expect when getting back to your cubicle. Which was a little less depressing than the powder white painted room you resided in now.

“Y/L/N, Min is asking for you.” The conversations stopped and all three of us looked up into the door frame. Jimin,Yoongi's assistant stood with his hands buried in his stiffly pressed pants pockets. “I-I’m on lunch.” You slowly went back to your lukewarm meal, taking a few noodles into your mouth. Chewing, You waited for the heavy pitter patter of his polished leather loafers to exit, but You never get what you wish for.

“Y/N, please don’t make me have to run back up there just to run back down here and tell you the same thing….c’mon.” He came closing your tupperware, sighing as you pushed it into your lunch bag, embarrassment growing on your features as he stood over you. The stare of nosey coworkers followed as you stepped out of the bland break room. The clacking of Jimin’s shoes found your nerves rather quickly, closely he walked behind you like a school principal making sure you went where instructed.

Taking you past your cubicle to leave your lunch you could almost taste the jealousy being thrown at you like missiles. Disapproving and confused whispers and glares followed you out the area. Reaching the stairs, out of sight of your colleagues you out ran Jimin, the looks, noises and scoffs getting the best of you. You practically threw yourself through yoongi's door, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Hey! hey! Bunny, got here quickly didn’t you?” He walked over locking his loyal assistant out. Falling back on the couch struggling for your breath, closing your eyes, you heard him walk around you. “I told you I’d see you after work, we’d have all night together.” Sighing, he pulls you up by your arms. With a grunt he sat down and replaced your head on his lap. “I know what you said, but did you really think I was going to wait...why should i?” Opening your eyes you met his soft gaze. “Tell me you love me.” He whispers, almost ashamed in himself. Needy, needy,needy,always needy. “This can’t be why you called me in.”

“Why should I?” You laughed, obviously he didn’t share your sense of humor as he tugged harshly on a strand of your hair. “Well if I didn’t love you I’d quit Yoongi.” Rolling over you cuddled into his soft tummy inhaling his masculin scent, this here under him locked in his dim office was your safe place. “No you wouldn’t, I pay you too much.” He murmured petting your back with his large hands. “As if!” You giggled into his tummy, pulling back to look up at your lover. His signature smile displayed on his features, moving his hands from your back he places his limber fingers at the back of your knee. Locking eyes he slid skillfully under your skirt to massage your ass over your panties. “Who were you hiding from today hm?” Groaning you rolled your eyes, you hate how he knows you so well.

“Kim?” “Mrs Kim is the least of my worries now.” You grimaced playing with his buttons. “Mm good, can't be the new girl, maybe her boyfriend?” Your eyes shot open, “boyfriend?! Who?” He planted this topic in the conversation, knowing your interest in the drama of your workplace. “Yeah, she’s running around with the coffee boy.” Laughing, he cut himself off “Jungkook.” He laughed almost uncontrollably. “That’s so cute since when?!” He hums calming down, “uh since about last month, I’ve been watching them get all close and flirty jeon puts extra cream in her coffee, she blushes blah blah. And you know Jimin is the nosiest person in the population of this place.”

You chuckled Nodding in agreeance “learned that way before you did, he was my cubicle neighbor before he was your assistant.” Sitting up you go to his drink cart to grab a bottle of water. “Yeah they’re cute as long as they stay on task, Answer the question though, who’s bothering my baby hm? I hate seeing you that way.” He comes from behind gliding his hands around your front pulling you into his embrace “you have a whole cafeteria in the next wing, I made sure they served your favorite today, and yet you chose the shitty break closet.” His rambling turns into background noise as you look through the one way window. Watching as your coworkers attended their duties, Jungkook balanced coffees in his arms with skill the new girl watched in admiration...I wonder what he’s actually here for.

Yoongi’s breath fans your neck causing you to shiver against him. “I’m sorry what’d you say?” “You’re ok.” He turns you around swiftly kissing you passionately against the glass obviously you’ve missed something. Though unseen the act feels extremely dirty. Dropping your water you cling to his shoulders, legs around his Slender waist. “You're not paying me to make out with you I hope.” He pecks your nose, gnawing his bottom lip. “Huh looks like I am.” “Ah, as tempting as that sounds Yoongs-” “don’t ever call me that.” He nips at your neck in retaliation. “I have a stack of papers on my desk that Mr Jimin has been beating me over the head about.” Groaning he loosens his grip around you. Letting you gather yourself before going to his door.

“I’ll see you tonight yeah?” Pouting,he came kissing your lips once more. “I’ll be waiting.” He opened the door and watched you strut down the stairs.

Getting back to your respectful area, you notice something was off...where’d your lunch go? You could’ve sworn you threw it on your desk. Pulling out the rolling chair to take a seat, “I’ll find it later.” You whispered to yourself,taking a seat, directly in the cold remains of your lunch. “What the fuck!” A wave of laughter was given with your ill response. Noodles dangled from your backside as you turned to look at the mess on your office chair.

“Okay! What are we a bunch of middle school virgins?” Jimin shouted, his face turning a dark shade of peach. “I’m sorry y/n.” Rolling your eyes you tried to keep back tears of utter embarrassment turning away from you colleagues. “Uhm...it’s pretty bad, do you have anything to change into?” He takes off his styled coat and hands it to you. You can’t process over the harsh giggles and whispers, “yeah like I have a closet in my car, Jimin I don’t have shit to put on!” You hiss making him pull an offended expression.

“I could give you something.” Your head snapped in the direction of the quiet new girl in the far corner. “I have a few dresses in car I-I I’m in the process of…” she scans the room unsure of her words “moving.” You offer a smile to cover how distraught you are, unable to respond correctly. “Thank you luci, we appreciate it.” Nodding she smiles softly grabbing her bag going to retrieve the clothes. “Go to the restroom, please.”

Tying the coat around your waist you rushed with your head down to the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself roughly. Taking off the grey coat Turing to examine your soup covered ass. You brushed the cold noodles letting them splat onto the tiled floor. Pulling coat off the conjoined sinks you found the spacious stall at the end of the row, stripping off your soiled skirt. Nothing better to do, but to sit on the cold stool and wait.

The creaking door of the bathroom cut your silent thoughts short, isn’t Luci a quick one? You chuckled to yourself getting up, about to tell her of your whereabouts…“maybe if the bitch didn’t have her head so far up Min’s ass she woulda saw it coming.” The unknown voice stopped you in your tracks. Her friend snickers. “Shh she could be in here.” “As if I give a fuck, she needs to know!” Peeking through the side of the stall you could see them in the mirror touching up their makeup. “Min’s probably got his head up hers too!” The quieter of the two spoke up.

“Ha that would explain my recent hours, I heard they fuck in the office, I wonder if the sluts any good.” She cleaned the edges of her lipstick, “I’ve fucked him, I know he’s good, really into all the rough shit, he’s crazy.” She tossed her makeup into her bag fixing her hair, “why’d you guys stop?” You felt your chest ache, yoongi never told you about him and Mrs Kim, what kind of fucked story is this? “Little miss pasta booty got the job, and Joon finally proposed...guess he didn’t want me any-” “y/n are you in here?!” Luci’s softened voice searched for you.

“I’m in here.” Responding slightly above a whisper, the soft steps of her pumps were trampled by the clicking steps of the two mud slingers who quickly bursted from the restroom. “I didn’t know what you would like, I have this blue one, it’s a cute summer dress.” She hung it on the door of the stall for me to see. “Or this white one, it’s a bit tighter but I think it’ll look great on you.” Randomly choosing you stripped of your top pulling the dress over yourself. “Thanks Luci, I owe you one.” Collecting your clothes and Jimin’s coat, you left the stall. “No no, I’m sorry Kim did that to you...I should’ve stopped her.” She coyly hangs her head, “not your fault...thanks Luci.” She smiles politely, leaving me alone in the bathroom.

Eunji That jealous bitch, yoongi has much explaining to do. You smooth out your dress bracing yourself for the environment behind the door. only to be pushed back. A deep blush pink shade covering his face, yoongi brings you back in, “you can’t be in here, this is the ladies.” He scans your body before looking at the dirty laundry in your arms. “This is my building. I can be anywhere in any room I want.” Scoffing you attempt to leave, grabbing your forearm he pulls you back. “What’s going on with you I’m here to check and see if you’re alright and here you are acting like an ass y/n” his face held a concerned stare.

“Yoongi the last thing we should be doing is huddling in the bathroom, we’ve drawn enough attention to ‘us’ already.” Unable to look him in the eyes you examine his posture, he propped your chin on his pointer finger bringing your face up. “And since when did you care?” “Ever since your ex painted my ass with my lunch.” He giggled darkly, “what?” Again you attempted escape, only to be overpowered and lifted with ease. “Okay sit the fuck down.” Placing you down in the sink like a child he took your skirt looking at the back. “And this just had to be the one I bought?.” He shook his head like a disappointed father. “What are you acting so mad towards me for, who’s supposedly my ex huh?” He took the skirt under the faucet scrubbing it harshly together with soap.

Why can’t he ever just leave you alone, drawing attention to your relationship was the last thing you needed today. It’s not like nobody knew, it was hard not to. But you hated the unwanted attention the favoritism brought you. “Who lied to you?” “You did.” He stopped the water, “y/n now you know I’d never.” He folded the cleaned wet skirt along with your shirt. “Yoongi, I heard Kim Eunji talking about it. She told her little follower about it while I hid in the stall.” You answered blandly, ready to be freed from the bathroom. His face shifted shades, “what? I’ve never fucked that bitch, all she does is lie and get into shit she has no concern for.” He gripped the sink roughly.

Like a switch, when the right buttons were pushed Yoongi’s temper was quick to strike….though never thrown at you. It can have harsh outcomes and you've seen it first hand. “She runs her mouth about you too much, I’ll have to help her out.” Aggressively released the marble counter, “Yoongi w-what, calm down.” He walked to the door, unsure of what to do. Naive of his wrath you followed behind. “She wants to get fucked? I’ll give her something that’ll fuck her up, something that’ll make her piss off for good this time.”

Not my image

[wthtorke]

Incandescent (Kofi commission)

Kofi one shot commission by  Insta is day_of_mayhem! 

(I might have gone off on this one lmao Enjoy!)

Incandescent. 

The night had been quiet, the trees softly hustling against one another as the wind blew. First, it was the strange noise.

From your little house in the woods, a sharp noise rattled through your bed, making you jump up in surprise.  Running to the window, you saw what could only be described as a falling star, coming quickly towards your house.

You could barely brace yourself against the windowsill as the star ripped through the clouds, falling far into the woods. Panting and scared, you looked for any signs of it. Any burning trees, smoke, noise coming from the general direction where it fell. You found none. 

From the window, you caught sight of your truck, still parked in the driveway. Grunting to yourself, you made your decision as you grabbed a coat and the wooden axe from the fireplace, running to your car, hoping to find the fallen star before anyone else did.

Gripping the steering wheel hard enough your knuckles turned white, you drove through the path in the forest, stopping when even more strange noises reached your ears.

Stopping your car, you tilted your head slightly, trying to catch it again. Seconds passed before a sudden blast made you jump, looking into the direction a flash of light also happened. Leaving the car, you held the axe close to your chest as you slowly walked towards the noise, breathing quickly as you did.

From the trees behind you, a slick, black ridged tail moved quietly as its owner's drool fell onto the tree branches, slowly stalking towards you. 

'Hssssssss..' 

Eyes widening, you turned around in time to see a black creature jumping from the tree, arms outstretched and claws ready to tear into you. 

Falling to the ground, the creature landed heavily on you, claws grappling your axe handle as you barely had time to process its weight before shiny, sharp fangs closed itself repeatedly before your face. 

You only realized you were screaming when the creature shifted its weight to your chest, cutting your air as it reeled back to strike one final time to kill you.

Closing your eyes in fear, you could only open them again as an animalistic roar reached your ears, and then the crushing weight wasn't there anymore, a screech and a heavy, wooden thud following suit. The creature had been rammed from on top of you, instead hitting the tree it jumped from hard in its back, falling to the ground, briefly shaken. 

You took your chance to get up as well and dart between the trees, out of the creature's way. You only bothered looking for whatever had knocked it out of you when the black creature hissed into another direction, and you realized there was absolutely nothing there. 

Still, under the dim moonlight, the creature leaped into nothingness, surprisingly landing on the thin air, snapping and hissing, swinging its tail around. You watched as it tried to hit something with its piercing tail. With a roar, you jerked back as it seemed to hit its goal, whatever was beneath it started zapping and glowing with failing electrical power, soon revealing what the thing was perched on as it didn't stop its struggles for one second. 

At this point, you had come to the conclusion that they were indeed aliens, and the star was no star but probably a ship that crash landed, even if you had no idea where it was now. The stream of roaring and screaming snapped you out of your thoughts, the massive humanoid alien trying to shake the creature from it’s back as best as it could, while still trying to dodge its deadly tail.

You looked around, your fight or flight instincts screaming at you to do something, anything. Looking at the dark forest behind you, you had no idea if there were other alien serpents around or more alien warriors to help this one. It was when the serpent's tail pierced the warrior's arm and you saw bright green blood explode everywhere that you took action.

Running towards both of them with your axe in hand. 

Your decision was made as the blade of your weapon sunk into the black creature’s back, it’s startled shrill making your ears ring as it’s tail hit you hard in the chest, both making you fly a few feet back and thankfully escape it’s weird fizzing blood that you’d later come to know was pure acid. 

You shook your head as you tried to breathe again, all the air knocked out from your lungs as you landed on your back. Your vision threatened to darken as you sat up, trying to spot where the aliens were.

Slowly your ears started focusing again as did your eyes, permitting you to see that not only was the black serpent not on top of the alien warrior anymore as said warrior was about to jam it’s blades into the serpent’s throat. The most intense occurrence of all your life didn’t last more than 5 minutes it seemed.

Getting up on your wobbly feet, you noticed just about how much blood there was around the ground. You watched as the warrior clutched his side, chest rising and falling as he stared at you, and while he could absolutely kill you if he so wanted, he didn’t.

Not that you were opposed to that, of course.

You felt the adrenaline die down in your blood, the cold air finally making you shiver a bit. You looked at who you supposed was a ‘he’ and back towards the general direction of your car. If his ship had truly crashed, he was stranded. Hurt and stranded.

“Safe,” You said, pointing back where your car was, “Together…?” You questioned, montioning between you and him with your less hurt hand. He took a few moments to analyze the situation before making his decision. He was hurt, more so than he’d like to admit, but less than he’d be if you hadn’t shown up. He nods, slowly, unsure, later following you to the truck, all but hauling himself up the back of the pickup truck. ‘I’ll definitely need to hose that down in the morning.’ You thought as you saw the green blood streaks as you got into the driver's seat.

The drive back was smooth, no longer fueled by raw fear and adrenaline. You felt tired, maybe because of the bruises forming where you got hit or well, the fact that this was more action than you had since….Well, ever. Getting home, you didn’t really know why you snuck him through the garage door, you had no neighbors and no family living with you but somehow it seemed the right thing to do, he was an alien after all.

He seemed to know the concept of showering, at least. He washed all the dirt and grime off of his body and you were more than a little upset at yourself that you didn’t see him take off his mask, only noticing your mistake when he got out of the bathroom and the metal was so clean it was sparkling. 

You watched as he sat in your living room and started patching himself up. While he wasn’t bleeding profusely anymore, the roaring surely gave you chills down your spine as he plunged some kind of needle into his thigh, pumping the syringe’s contents into his system before sewing his wound shut.

You pointed at the couch and told him to make himself at home, as far as that could go, anyway. You passed out as soon as you hit the pillow, your body paying no mind to the huge alien downstairs.

The next morning, he was gone.

 As much as you were expecting it, it still felt...odd. Like some kind of fever dream. Only you knew it happened by the state of your house and garage. If you didn’t know it was an alien, you’d have thought a wild bear had wrecked your house. The floor was muddy, some things were out of place or straight up on the floor while some you couldn’t tell if they were touched at all. 

Sighing, you gathered the broom, mop and trash bags to start your new mission; Cleaning the house. 

Cleaning was usually boring, but this time it just felt restless. Even as your favorite songs played in the background. Of course, no alien could just have a slumber party in some human’s house but still, much had happened yesterday. You wondered when the government’s men were going to burst through your window and shoot a sedative up your arm because you’ve had alien interaction. 

You were cleaning the kitchen cupboards when a reflection that very much wasn't your own caught your attention in the mirror. Squinting a bit, you jumped back when your eyes focused and revealed your guest's reflection, only his position was right behind you. "FUCK-” You turned around quickly, hitting your knee in the process, ”When did you get here?! God-," You started coughing a bit from the sudden intake of air.

You looked back at him when you heard strange noises coming from his helmet, almost like someone was tuning a radio before the words became clear, recordings.

"No-, trails."

You blinked in confusion for a second before realizing what he meant, slight dread setting in your gut at the prospect that an alien could speak, or well, play recordings of english to you. "Trails-, in the forest? Wow..that’s, that’s very nice, actually, hadn’t thought of that,” you thought over your next words, taking in his huge form as you did, “You’re headed home now, I suppose?”

He shook his head, motioning to his still tender wounds from yesterday’s battle against the serpent.

The serpent.

“Oh, Um-, That thing is dead, right?”

He nodded, “Exterminated. Contained.”

Contained.

“Great, great-, well, if you’re not planning to kill me and take over my house, you’re um...very welcome to stay?” You said, a bit unsure.

He nodded, walking over silently towards your garage door, you heard rummaging around, following to see him picking up after a broken vase you didn’t remember was there.

He was a considerate roommate, you could say. Wherever this alien came from, he knew of common sense, or just had a very strict mama as he helped in the chores he could. You suspected he didn’t trust you to clean his trails properly, but you weren’t complaining of free help.

Another thing you could tell is that he learned fast. Very fast. 

He’d been skeptical of you, at first. You’d never catch him sleeping or eating, always the same passive expression of his mask looking back at you. You couldn’t blame him, but even then, it was hard not to speculate what was underneath it. Did he look like Davy Jones? The Shape? He didn’t seem to be aquatic. Maybe a lizard? His skin was mottled like one, at least. 

3 months passed by before you both had that feeling. He’d been here for too long. His wounds were beyond healed, no one had shown up for him, no government, no other aliens, nothing. You’d seen him mess with his wrist gauntlet a few times, seen him test the cloaking device he had, it worked. 

So, why was he still here?

  It was on a similar night that you met him that you mustered the courage to ask.

The stars were bright, as was the moonlight. The breeze was soft, you both sat outside for a bit, looking into the forest. He told you he feared they’d come at night. You guessed he spoke of other humans, the kind that would want to study him alive, in the name of ‘science’, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Are you waiting for your people to come get you? Have you sent a signal yet?”

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched a bit, the cold air around you prickling at your skin. “Oh-, well...have they replied?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, “So, I guess they’ll be coming soon, right?”

You waited for another robotic ‘Yes’ to hit your ears, to shatter your fantasy of living a nice life with him, somehow.

“No.”

“No?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him, “Why not?”

He turns to look at you for a second, at least you could assume he was looking at you behind the mask.

With that, he lifted his hands to the object of your speculation during the last 3 months, fingers slowly snapping off tubes that connected it to the rest of his armor with an audible ‘Fzzzzz’.

You held your breath as he hooked his fingers around the mask, snapping it off as well. He hovered the mask for a second before slowly lowering it away from his face.

You could feel your pupils dilate as you took in the sight of him, the spiky crown around his forehead, the mottling, so similar to the rest of his body, going down to his eyes, you lingered there for a moment, taking in how yellow they looked, and how they were staring directly into your own.

You gulped as you kept lowering your gaze, spotting the fangs, the tusks, the strong jaws that could very much clamp around your neck right now, if he so wanted. Everything about him screamed predator before, but now, having the last piece of the puzzle, you could only think of one word to describe him.

Perfect.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when his hand touched yours, so tender, mindful of his talons, yet still enveloping your cold ones in warmth. You looked up at him, fingers slowly squeezing his own, an attempt to show him you weren’t afraid, just stunned.

“Stay.” He said, in a much deeper voice than any he’d ever played for you before. His voice.

You only realized you were crying when the tears caught in between the crinkles of your smile, stopping their journey straight down your face, giving them a shortcut to falling down your chin, to where his other hand was raising up, gently tipping your face up, as he lowered his own, pressing your foreheads together.

“Stay.” You repeated, in a much quieter, shakier voice than his, but with every bit of intention behind it, still smiling as he squeezed your hand again.

Suddenly, the night didn’t feel nearly as cold anymore, nor did it feel as lonely as it once did.

[nev3rfound]

someone i once knew : b.b - p.2

now that everyone has returned to the compound, bucky can confide in his oldest friend about you being here and what it could possibly mean. (2k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

 “Stevie? You down here?” You hesitantly walk down the dark alley, hearing squeaks from the rats in their homes. “It’s only me, I promise.” You add as you scan the area.

You pause at the sight of a bin lid rising, and Steve peers over the brim to see you smiling weakly at him. “Hey, Y/n.” Steve mutters, now standing upright, sporting a black eye for the third time this month.

“Hey,” You walk over, holding out a hand and help him out of the bin with some difficulty as the lid slams into the concrete, the rattling sound echoing upwards. “I won’t ask, don’t worry.”

Steve manages to smile at that, you never asked him about his ventures into alleyways or how he ends up with some injury each time until he was ready to talk about it. He knows that’s why you’re such a good friend, the opposite of Bucky whose route is more direct and to the point.

Walking out of the alleyway, you turn the corner only to see Bucky leaning against the wall, leg resting against it as his arms remain crossed. “And here I thought you would’ve come alone.” Steve comments to you, looking up to see your evident surprise.

“I did.” You remark, stepping forward and hit Bucky’s arm. “I told you, James, not to follow me!” You groan in frustration whilst Bucky simply smirks and winks to Steve who remains equally unimpressed.

“Well, I thought about it, and decided it’d be best just in case there was any trouble like last time.” Bucky states, pushing himself off the wall and walks after you. “You can’t be mad at me, seriously, doll?”

You quickly turn around, glaring at Bucky who steps back. “Do you remember what happened last time, huh?” You question, looking over to Steve who nods.

“You slammed a bin lid against that punks head.” Steve comments and the anger in your expression eases.

“Thank you, Steve.” You glance past Bucky to Steve. “I can fend for myself just fine, James.”

Bucky sighs and glances over to Steve with his shoulders slumped forward, but Steve simply shakes his head. “You’re on your own, pal.” Steve chuckles, watching as Bucky jogs to be by your side and wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your cheek.

Walking in behind Thor, Steve spots Bucky in the far corner of the conference room.

“So, how’d you manage then? See you didn’t burn the place down which I call a success.” Steve jokes as he pulls out the chair beside Bucky who barely reacts, his eyes focused on the files placed on the table with his name neatly written on the top. “Buck?” Steve speaks up, and Bucky slowly lifts his head up.

“It was fine.” Bucky remarks as he sits upright, his arms remaining crossed over his chest. “But it’s good to see you.” A half-smile forms on the soldier's lips and Steve curtly nods.

“Did Tony’s assistant show her face much?” Steve asks, his attention averting to the files in front of him, missing how Bucky tenses upon mentioning you.

“About that,” Bucky starts, but the door slams open and Tony walks in, making a grand entrance as always whilst you follow in quietly, closing the door softly whilst your back faces the Avengers.

“Damn,” Sam mutters, holding back a whistle as you turn to face the Avengers, trying your hardest to remain composed as all eyes are on you.

“Sam,” Tony calls him out whilst you busy yourself with some of the files and take a seat at the table beside Natasha who smiles at you. “anyway, this is my new assistant, Y/n.”

Steve suddenly snaps up to see you give everyone a small wave. “Hi, it’s lovely to finally meet you all.”

Yet, Steve’s eyes only widen as he turns to Bucky who buries his head into the files, ignoring you completely.

“So, Y/n’s new, she’s living here so please, don’t be weird.” Tony sighs before carrying on with his presentation and remains unaware of Steve looking at you closely in disbelief at how it can be.

"Like any of us would be weird, it's a pleasure, Lady Y/n." Thor comments and Steve listens as you chuckle at the God's remark.

“Seriously, James, just let him do it.” You huff as the three of you stand outside of the registering office once again.

Bucky tears his eyes from you as he removes his hat, holding it in his hands as fireworks sound behind you. It was his final night before he left, he wanted it to be perfect.

“Why’d you wanna do it so bad, huh?” Bucky asks, facing Steve who stands tall whilst Bucky looks down on him, you behind him with a supportive look in your eyes.

“I wanna serve my country, Buck, just like every other guy.” Steve states, repeating himself for the umpteenth time.

Stepping forward, you take a hold of Bucky’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his and squeeze lightly. Even without words, Bucky could understand you perfectly and sighs under his breath.

“Alright.” Bucky gives in with great difficulty and releases his hand from yours as he hugs Steve. “Just, don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

Steve breathes out a laugh as he hugs his oldest friend, but can see tears forming in your eyes as you watch the pair.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve retorts as Bucky backs away. “Don’t win the war until I get there, okay?”

Nodding to Steve, Bucky salutes him before returning to your side, uttering promises of a final dance and a night together, knowing it could potentially be his last. 

“Earth to Steve?” Sam waves his hand in front of Steve’s face, snapping him from the buried memory as you close your folders and follow behind Tony, everyone else now rising to their feet and departing. “You coming, Cap?” Sam asks, seeing everyone gone besides him and Bucky.

“I’ll follow you out in a minute.” Steve states and Sam exits without asking any questions, leaving the old friends alone with an impossible elephant in the room.

“Steve,” Bucky starts, but Steve clears his throat and rests his arm on the table.

“What is going on here, Buck?” Steve questions, still in disbelief as he witnessed you walk in with the same shy energy you once had as a child and sat quietly beside Natasha. “That, that can’t be Y/n.” Steve scoffs, but Bucky raises a brow.

“We’re here, Steve.” Bucky remarks. “Can’t say anything is impossible anymore.”

“But, but how? I, I’ve visited her grave. Bucky, Y/n died in 2005.” Steve sadly admits, having seen your name etched in stone as flowers lay beneath it.

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t know Steve, I’ve been trying to figure it out but Y/n has had a life, a childhood that she remembers.”

After his initial interaction with you, Bucky scrolled through the internet with great difficulty (with FRIDAY’s assistance) and found records of your birth date, parents names and their death certificates. You exist in the now according to the government records, and so does a family that isn’t one Bucky knew.

“So she has no idea who we are? I, she wasn’t taken or,” Steve trails off, not wanting to think about you being another victim of HYDRA’s.

“She has these memories,” Bucky begins to explain, but he looks up to ensure no one is eavesdropping. “I, she remembers pieces of her life growing up with us, but she doesn’t know it’s us.”

“How is that even possible?” Steve leans back in his chair, struggling to comprehend it as Bucky simply shrugs his shoulders. “So what? All this is just happening by chance, huh? Tony just hired our oldest friend, your-”

“Don’t say it.” Bucky cuts Steve off, his blue eyes hardening and his jaw clenches shut.

“Look, all I’m saying is we should talk to Tony, see if we can make any sense of this.” Steve suggests and pushes his chair back. “I know this isn’t easy, Bucky.”

Bucky scoffs under his breath. “You have no idea, pal.” Bucky remarks as he follows Steve out from the conference room and toward the elevator.

“Can you hold it please!” You call out and rush down the corridor, seeing the pair waiting. As you slip inside, you smile up to Steve who nods back whilst Bucky keeps his eyes locked on his feet. “Thank you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.” Steve tries his hardest to remain composed as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, something you used to do with dresses instead.

As the doors open, you nod to Steve and exit, leaving the pair alone once more and Bucky exhales deeply.

“Real smooth, Buck.” Steve jokes and Bucky’s shoulders fall forward. “What happened between you two whilst we were gone, huh?”

“I, I don’t know.” Bucky mutters as the elevator rises further up the compound.

Walking through the corridor to your suite, tears form in your eyes once more. “Again?” You ask yourself as you dab your eyes, an overwhelming sense of sadness forming in your heart.

Standing proudly alongside many others, you wave as the soldiers board the trains. “Don’t cry, doll.” Bucky wipes your eyes, his hands resting on your cheeks as he takes you in, unsure if he’ll ever have the joy of seeing your bright smile ever again.

“I can’t help it, James.” You admit, sniffling as the whistle sounds. “I love you, and please, don’t do anything dumb, you idiot.” You chuckle as Bucky leans closer, capturing your lips with his, saying more than words could as tears fall from your eyes as he pulls away.

“This isn’t goodbye, Y/n.” Bucky assures you as he boards the train, blending in with the rest of the soldiers as you do with the worried lovers bidding farewell.

Forcing back the sob in your throat, you watch as he disappears out of sight, leaving you alone with the realisation; he might never come home. 

“Hey, Y/n?” Natasha taps your shoulder, and you discreetly wipe your eyes before facing her.

“Hi, Natasha, can I help at all?” You ask, forcing a smile that Natasha can see right through.

She hums before motioning for you to follow her. “Listen, I know Barnes can be, well, Barnes,” You nod along, unsure where she’s going with it. “but he means well under all that. I, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here, and if you ever need me, I’m just above.” Natasha motions to the floor above, and you nod along.

“Thanks, Natasha. Bucky’s fine, I promise. He just, he reminds me of someone I once knew.” You state, unsure of your own words as they leave your lips.

“Ah, we’ve all been there.” Natasha remarks, seeing an unease across your face. “You okay in there?” She asks, but you immediately perk up.

“Yeah, I should,” You point down to your phone. “I should go sort Tony’s meetings, I, I’ll see you later.”

Before Natasha can ask anything else, you rush off to your suite, locking the door behind you.

Leaning against your door, you can feel your heart drumming against your chest, threatening to burst through. “Hey, FRIDAY?” You ask as your eyes remain tightly closed, images of Bucky crossing your mind, but a version you’ve never met.

“Yes, Ms Y/l/n?” FRIDAY answers.

“Where is the nearest Doctor?” Your voice remains uneasy as silence follows.

“Is something wrong Ms Y/l/n? Would you like me to inform Tony?”

“Erm, no, I, I don’t want to worry him.” You state, but three knocks on your door interrupt you.

Stepping back, you unlock the door and pause as Tony stands before you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, don’t you think?” Tony asks as you breathe heavily and step aside, knowing this would be a long conversation ahead.

PART THREE 

(thank you to the following for all the love in the first part! if you’d like to be tagged in this mini series do let me know) (or equally do not want to be tagged - i am just mentioning all those who left comments in part 1 :) )

@mggpleasedontlookhere @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @16boyfriends-and-me @sarge-barnes-sir @lilysgarden @sarcasticallywitty15 @buckyandsteveimagines @sassy-pelican @decaffeinated--fangirl @amywinehouseisgod @tearsinparadise @just-dreaming-marvel-2 @tcc-gizmachine @newyork47 

[wlntrsldler]

I Want You To Love Me (James Potter x Reader)

PROMPT: hi, i finally did it. this is part two to tell me that you love me!

A/N: i do prefer the first part but i also enjoyed writing this. 

WARNINGS: angst?

WC: 3.7K+ (sorry again)

HP MASTERLIST

i’m doing a writing challenge! 

-

i want you to love me (j.p one shot)

“Y/N/N, let me in!”

You lifted your head from your pillow to speak into the distance separating your bed from your door, “Go away, Pads! I’m staying in.”

“You said that last weekend… and the weekend before that,” you heard Sirius groan from the hallway. He continued to bang against the wooden door, rattling the metal components of it, “We miss you, Y/N/N! Come out to Hogsmeade with us!”

“No, I want to stay in,” you yelled, falling back into the solace of your bed, “Sirius, please just go without me. I’m sure my less than happy attitude would kill the mood anyway.”

“I’d rather have the mood be killed than not have my friend with me.” 

You smiled a bit at his words. Sirius always did know how to cheer you up. A part of you wanted to give in and spend the day with your friends. You did miss them terribly, as you’ve done nothing short of avoiding them for the last month. You even went so far as to switching out of the classes that you had with them. You were surprised you got permission to do so, but you had to thank your long-standing and pleasant relationships with your professors for that. 

As you opened your mouth to agree to Sirius’ offer, you began to remember who else would be there— James. A month in isolation was not enough time to mend a broken heart. So you sunk back in your bed, pulling the covers up to cover your chest, and squeezed your eyes shut. 

You heard Sirius sigh, disappointingly, before his footsteps echoed down the corridors. You were relieved he gave up, at least for the day. You didn’t know if James had told them about that night, you didn’t really allow yourself to be in the same space as any of the Marauders for enough time to have a conversation beyond “hi’s” and “hello’s.” Sirius was tired of it, as was Peter and Remus, but Sirius took it personally. You two have built a good friendship over the years and he didn’t know what it was that caused you to pull away from them so rapidly and so out of the blue. 

He had a hunch. He figured it had something to do with James, as the boy flinched every time someone was to mention your name. Not to mention the way James had changed drastically, more subdued and mellowed out ever since the night of the party. He hasn’t chased after Lily since, and it puzzled a lot of people, Sirius especially. He had to hear about James’ incessant pining for years and all of a sudden, Lily seemed to cease to exist? Something wasn’t right. 

Sirius talked about it to Remus and Peter but the two boys were just as lost as he was. Nobody knew what happened that night between you and James. And although they all had their theories, most of them being absurd, James never talked about it to anyone, nor did you. So your friends were left in the dark, wondering and guessing what on earth transpired. 

It wasn't until an hour after Sirius’ supposed departure did you hear a knock on your door again. You groaned, not wanting to have this conversation twice in the same day. You sat up, “Go away, Sirius!”

Another knock. 

“Padfoot,” you warned, “Go away, please!”

He seemed to ignore your rebuttals, continuing to pound harshly on your door. You closed your eyes, pushing two pillows against both of your ears to try to drown out the noise, forgetting for a second that you were a witch with the knowledge of a simple spell to do the trick. When you realized that the pillows weren’t working, nor did he show any signs of stopping, you got up from your bed and marched angrily to your door. 

You swung it open, looking down at your feet. You huffed, “Sirius, I’m really not in the mood—” 

It wasn’t Sirius. 

James’ back was turned, evidence that he’d been pacing in front of your door after he heard your footsteps. When he heard the familiar creaking of your door opening, he turned around, an unexplainable look on his face. His eyes were brimmed red, like he’d been crying. His curls were tossed around, not neatly styled the way he always did them. James wore pajama pants and a fluffy sweater. It was unfair, really, how good he still looked even when he quite literally just rolled out of bed. 

The two of you didn’t talk, not one word. You just stared at each other, taking in each other’s presence. You became so aware of how you must’ve looked— pajama pants that went past the tip of your toes, a large hoodie that you were half-sure belonged to James once, and your hair in disarray from spending the entire day and afternoon in bed. Subconsciously, you hid behind your door, trying to hide yourself from the boy who watched your every move. 

The silence was deafening. It was awkward and uncomfortable. It was like neither of you knew each other anymore, like you didn’t spend years being friends or months being wrapped up in each other’s arms in the most vulnerable way. You stared at James Potter, not recognizing the man who stood in front of you. 

This man was unsure of himself, not carrying himself in the confident way that James usually does. His back was hunched over like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. He looked small. He had this guard up in front of him and a face that you couldn’t read. This was unusual for the both of you. You weren’t used to not knowing James. 

You forced yourself to be okay with that thought as you stared him down, knowing that you had no choice but to accept that you two will be strangers to each other one day. Soon, even. But truth be told, you didn’t like it. You didn’t like not knowing him. 

You gulped, starting to close the door, little by little, in hopes he wouldn’t notice. At first, he didn’t. He was too preoccupied staring at your figure, your face, your being, that he didn’t realize that the door was shutting. When James finally did, he stuck his foot in the crack, right before you could close it. He hissed at the pain, but kept his foot there, not daring to move. 

“I miss you,” he finally said, breathing out every word, “And I-I won’t lie to you, I don’t know if there’s a word for what I’m feeling. I’m not even sure I fully understand it.”

James pushed the door open, letting himself walk in despite your silent protests. You walked backwards, stopping right before the back of your knees hit your bedpost. He continued to talk, looking down at his feet, distraught, “All I know is now I can’t stop thinking about you and I can’t stop worrying about whether you’re alright or not. And I think I’m going crazy, Y/N/N.”

“James..”

“No, let me finish,” he shook his head, looking into your eyes. His eyes were clouded by tears making your breath get caught in your throat. He paced back and forth in your dormitory, “I haven’t slept in weeks because every time I close my eyes I just see you and I don’t know what it means! I’m so confused and I just— nothing makes sense anymore. I keep looking for you everywhere I go and I expect you to be there next to me and when you’re not, I just feel so empty.” 

You sat down on your bed, tears flowing down your cheeks. You twiddled with your thumbs in your lap, unable to look at James who stopped his pacing and stood in front of you. You didn’t say a word. You didn’t think you had any words to say.

After his rant, James looked at you. His heart ached as he watched you retreat to yourself, cowering after every word that he said. He ran to you, ignoring the warning signs that were flashing in his mind. “Y/N,” he whispered, crouching down to be eye level with you, “Please look at me.” 

You couldn’t do it. You gulped, biting your lip to stop the cries that wanted to escape. James wrapped his hands around yours, engulfing them in the familiar warmth you’ve missed in the time you were apart. He kneeled in front of you, his head hanging low. Neither of you said anything, the silence and the sounds of muffled cries bouncing off the walls of your dormitory. 

James began to shake softly, his chest rising up and down as his tears began to drop onto the floor. You watched the wood under your feet become pooled with his tears. He placed his forehead on your knees, his lips kissing the fabric of the pajamas you wore to cover your legs. 

“Y/N, I miss you. This month has been hell without you and the only thing that makes sense to me right now is that I need you in my life,” he sighed, lifting his head to place his chin on your lap, “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“That’s not fair, James,” you sobbed, pushing him away. It took all your might not to scoop him up in your arms the minute you saw his hurt expression. You never once denied him, never once pushed him away, until now. You still couldn’t keep eye contact with him, his glossy eyes and trembling lips made you putty in his hands and for once, you wanted to put yourself first. You crossed your knees under your thighs, sitting uncomfortably on your bed, “It’s not fair that you just came in here and said all that.”

He sat in front of you, knees up to his chest. He respected your wishes and kept his distance, “Why?”

“Because I know what I’m feeling,” you stated, lips quivering. “I’m sure of what I feel and you can’t just come in here and say that you miss me without knowing what it is you feel! I don’t want to keep thinking that there’s something here when there’s not, James. It’s not fair to me.” 

“How am I supposed to figure out if there’s something here if I haven't seen you in a month, Y/N?” he replied, frustrated with the lack of communication between the two of you. “I haven’t seen you for weeks! You disappeared on me. I didn’t know what to think. The only thing I could think about was how I didn’t want you gone from my life. I tried, Y/N/N. I tried so hard to talk to you but you weren’t around anymore. I asked Minnie where you’ve been and she said it wasn’t any of my business—”

“Because it isn’t,” you interrupted. 

James rolled his eyes, ignoring your snarky comment, “The last time I saw you— if you even count that glance as seeing you— was when you helped bring Moony inside after the full moon. And the minute I tried to talk to you, you bolted! I felt like you didn’t want me around anymore and that killed me, Y/N/N.”

You felt a bit guilty, knowing that you did everything that he stated. You sniffled, finally getting the courage to look at him. James was staring at you intently, resting his cheek on his knee. His cheeks were squished, making him look so adorable with his red nose and messy curls. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, eyes widening in realization. 

“Merlin, you haven’t even been in the Great Hall for meals! How do you get away with that? Have you been eating?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his worried tone, not expecting that to come out of his lips. James always did have a motherly instinct when it came to you and the Marauders. He was shocked at the sound of your laughter, the worry in his eyes subsiding for a second. He missed that sound so much.

A lopsided smirk appeared on his lips. James looked at you, quirking his eyebrow. His tone changed as he spoke again, “Well?”

“Well what?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, dropping your smile. You remembered why you were in this conversation in the first place. 

“Have you?” he echoed, “Have you been eating?”

“I have.”

“Good, good,” he nodded. His voice never returned to his frustrated tone, as if that little moment between you two was enough to cure his broken soul. He awkwardly waddled closer to your bed, not bothering to get up as he inched to where you sat. James sent you a sad smile, “I missed you.” 

“James—”

“You know,” he interrupted, ignoring the way you wanted to roll your eyes at his antics, “The only times you’ve ever called me James was when I’ve pissed you off, or when I’ve done something, or when we’re talking about something serious. Which makes sense since we are talking about something serious right now—”

To push his buttons, you decided to do the same to him, “Does this lead to a point?”

“Yes, if you would let me talk,” James scoffed, a playful tone in his voice, “As I was saying, you only call me James when I do something... That night in the Common Room was the first time you called me James for not doing something. And Merlin’s beard, every night since then, I wished that I did.” 

You wore a puzzled look on your face, not understanding what he was saying, “What?”

“I wish I did something that night, Y/N/N,” he confessed, “I wish I didn’t leave you on your own. I wish I sat down and talked to you that night. I wish I kissed you when you asked me to. Something! I wish I did something instead of just walking away.” 

You stayed silent as you let yourself process his words. You didn’t want to feel the butterflies in your stomach, but when you realized that he regretted that night for the opposite reason that you did, you couldn’t help it. You regretted that night because you lost James. You lost the years of friendship and history that the both of you shared because of one too many shots. You swallowed your pride and asked him to kiss you so you could have something to remember him by, something to keep you connected with him, even if it was nothing more to him than a memory. 

He regretted that he walked away from you despite the growing ache in his chest. He shut out the rest of the Marauders, hoping that he’ll have enough courage to face what he was feeling for you, rather than hide away and cower behind his far-fetched fantasy with Lily. James regretted that night because he let you believe that you lost him when in reality, he was completely and wholly yours to take. 

“Y/N?” he whispered, focusing on nothing else but you, “Please, say something.”

“You can’t do that, Prongs,” you didn’t miss the way his eyes twinkled with glee when the nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly. You blushed, embarrassed, “Sorry, it’s a habit.”

“Never apologize for that,” he shook his head, testing the waters by sitting down on your bed beside you. You didn’t push him off, which he took as a good sign, “Never break that habit either. It comes naturally to you and that’s what I want between us, Y/N/N. We fit together so naturally.” 

You closed your eyes, letting out broken breaths. You clutched your chest, feeling yourself crumble to his feet. James couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wrapped his arms around your shivering figure, only holding you tighter when he felt you stiffen under his touch. He cooed into your hair, sweet nothings that didn’t make any sense, but it was enough. 

James kissed the top of your head, letting you beat your knuckles on his chest in frustration. He knew he deserved this. He deserved your anger and your rejection and your denial. He deserved to be left for dust, as he did to you. But for now, he had you in his arms, and he’d take that over anything else in the world. 

You cried into his chest, “You’ve hurt me so much, James Potter.” 

“I know.” 

“It hurt so much to watch you run after someone else while I was just standing there, waiting for you to see me.”

“I know.” 

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about why I wasn’t good enough for you?” you croaked out, not having the energy to pull away from him. You stayed idle in his arms, except for the occasional wiping of the tears that stained your cheeks, “I know I’m not Lily but Godric, I thought I would be good enough for you.” 

“You are,” he replied, holding your face in his hands. James pulled you away, hoping that if you were to see the sincerity in his eyes, you’d see how much he meant it, “Y/N, you are too good for me. I’m the one that isn’t good enough for you. I’ve been such a fool.” 

“James,” you pushed him away, creating some distance between you. The few inches that separated the both of you might as well be oceans because James had never felt so far from you before. 

He reached out for you, a ghost of a touch caressing your hand before you pulled it away, “Please, stop pulling away from me. Y/N, I’m trying.” 

And he was. You could tell he was trying to figure out what it was he felt for you. He stared at you differently this time— not in the way a friend looked at a friend or the way he used to look at you with lust clouding his eyes. This time, this time was different. James stared at you in adoration, like if he were to be separated from you again, he would lose all his senses. His eyes yearned to look into yours, hoping that if he looked into the swirls of your eyes long enough, he’d be able to see the future he desperately craved with you. 

“I know you are,” you smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. You leaned over to trace patterns on the top of his hand. “And I appreciate that you’re trying to figure this out but James, like I said, I can’t be ten steps ahead of you. I can’t wait for you to figure out what you’re feeling for me while I watch myself fall deeper and deeper in love with you because I love you, James and I—”

James’ breath got caught in his throat. The minute those words left your lips, his other hand placed itself on top of yours. He squeezed it, “Say it again.” 

“What?”

“Say it again.” 

“Say what?” 

“Say that you love me again.” 

You shook your head, flustered that you confessed your unrequited love for him a second time. You tried to take your hand back but James held it in place, staring at the way your limbs seemed to melt together.

He spoke again after he realized you weren’t going to, “The night you told me you were in love with me, I felt something that scared me. At first I thought it was just shock and confusion, maybe, because I didn’t think you could ever fall in love with me. I stayed up trying to figure out what that feeling was in my chest because I couldn’t sleep, Y/N. There was this pressure in my chest that I’ve never felt before.” 

James locked his eyes with yours, “And when you said those words right now, I felt it again— that pressure, that something in my chest. Now, it makes sense. It all makes sense. You, your words, your love, is the only thing that makes me feel this way.” 

“What are you saying, James?”

“I’m in love with you, too,” he chuckled, breathily. His eyes pooled with his tears, the overwhelming feelings of realization too much for his emotions to handle, “I’ve been so blind all this time, trying to hide it behind an infatuation that could never and would never touch what we share— what we have.” 

“You can’t say things like that without meaning it. Just a few minutes ago you showed up saying that you didn’t know how you feel and suddenly because I said three little words, you have it all figured out?” 

“No,” he said, truthfully, “I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t know how I can make you trust me again. Or how I can show you how much I truly mean it when I say that I love you. Or how I can convince you that we can move past this. But those three little words helped me become more sure of myself than I ever have been this entire month and I would do anything for you to give me a chance to prove myself.” 

“I don’t want to get hurt,” you mumbled. 

His hopeful eyes wandered to yours, “I’d rather hurt myself a million times over than hurt you again.” 

Finally, after fighting thoughts, you gave in. You nodded, scooting closer to him. James let out a laugh, completely overjoyed that you found it in your heart to give him a chance. He wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you down onto your messy bed with him. He held you so close to his chest, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat and the way his chest rumbled as he spoke to you.

“Thank you,” he murmured. James caressed the side of your face. He inched closer, darting his eyes to your lips. He swallowed back his fears, taking a leap of faith as he asked the question, “Can I kiss you?” 

You found yourself lost in his eyes, lost in his presence. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the boy in front of you, the boy you loved who you watched love another. The boy who was now in front of you, staring at you in the way that you always craved. It took you a minute to find the right words. When you eventually did, you nodded, hovering your lips over his, “As long as it’s not the last time.”

-

TAGS: @littlegasps @sleep-i-ness @belledawnidk @heloisedaphnebrightmore  @chudleycanons @emcchi 

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 5

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: canon rewrite, slow burn, canon-typical violence, sexual harassment/unwanted sexual advances, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When you’re caught in a firefight with a bounty hunter and the Crest is damaged, you and Mando stop on Tatooine to find a job. A shadow of your past catches up with you. Notes: Sorry not sorry for making Toro even worse than he already is. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @theflightytemptressadventure @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After leaving Sorgan, you and Mando chose a second “backwater skughole” several systems away as your next destination. Mando set the nav, and the automated voice of the computer informed you that the trip would take almost five days. The thought of spending five days confined to the Crest was not appealing, but you knew it was important to keep your stops as remote as possible.

Time was a functionally meaningless concept in space anyways, hours and days bleeding together. Without the usual environmental cues to govern your circadian rhythm, you had to rely on a schedule to maintain some semblance of normalcy, keeping alarms on your chrono to remind you when to sleep. Mando, on the other hand, seemed so completely accustomed to this slippery sense of time that he needed no reminders; this was natural for him.

If you hadn’t already seen some of his skin, you might actually think he was a droid. Aside from his hard metal exterior, the most compelling piece of evidence to support this theory was the fact that he didn’t seem to need much sleep. He disappeared into his bunk for maybe four or five hours a day, plus twenty minutes here or there to eat. You suspected he settled into a half-asleep, half-awake hibernation mode when he sat in the pilot’s seat for hours at a time without moving. Once, he jolted so violently when the child sneezed that he had to catch him by his collar before he slid off his knee.

His relationship with the kid, though, was achingly, heartwarmingly, vulnerably human.

You lived for the glimpses of their bond—the way Mando would remove a single pauldron so he could rest the child’s head on his shoulder to lull him to sleep, whispering to him as he swayed gently. When the kid was restless and energetic from being cooped up, Mando would roll the little silver sphere from a control in the cockpit along the floor of the hull for him to chase. For a generally impatient man, his patience for the child seemed almost inexhaustible; he would hold him and pat his back endlessly while he wailed his way through particularly bad tantrums.

You collected these precious moments and held them close to your heart, unwittingly creating a catalog of comfort that you’d return to later. They weren’t necessarily your moments to claim, as a visitor in their world, but you treasured them nonetheless.

***

You were out of colored contacts. You could only wear each pair continuously for a month, and your current pair was due to be switched out any day. The morning you threw them away, Mando stopped you as you passed him in the hull with a light hand on your shoulder. The kid was tucked in his other arm.

He stepped in front of you, just inches away from your chest, tilting his helmet down to look at you. You looked up to meet his gaze, puzzled. He cocked his head, a silent question.

Not for the first time, you wondered about the color of his eyes.

You held your breath, unsure of what he was going to do.

He said nothing but brought his gloved hand up to your face, running this thumb along the crest of your cheek—so lightly, the leather was barely touching you. The tender gesture brought goose bumps to your arms, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

The kid reached up a tiny hand toward your other cheek, mirroring Mando’s movement. He babbled quietly, breaking the tense silence. You flicked your eyes down to watch him but remained still, not wanting to disrupt the spell of the moment. The baby wiggled his fingers and whined when he realized he couldn’t reach you. You smiled.

You looked back up into Mando’s visor. You wanted so badly to reach out and touch him back, to pull him closer, but you let fear keep you rooted to the spot.

To your astonishment, he dipped his helmet, as if he was going to lean his forehead against yours. He was inches from your face—you could see your surprise reflected in his visor and hear his steady breathing through the modulator. But Mando seemed to change his mind mid-gesture, and the moment was over before you knew it. He straightened, dropped his hand, nodded stiffly, and stepped past you. The child let out a frustrated cry in protest.

Without the kid’s lingering whines, you might have thought you imagined the whole thing.

Little by little, you were revealing your real self to the Mandalorian, placing your safety in his hands. This would have been harder to stomach if you weren’t getting pieces of him in return. Spending this much time in such close quarters with someone—even someone as closed off as Mando—was enough to get to know them fairly well.

For instance, you weren’t quite fluent, but you were getting really good at reading his body language. He relied on his armor to mask his intentions with strangers, and he wasn’t accustomed to people spending extended amounts of time with him—time to learn his patterns and tells. Over time, it became apparent just how many minute things there were to unpack: subtle tensions in his back and shoulders, clenching of his fists, tapping of his fingers, the lean in his hips, audible inhales or exhales, the tilt of his helmet. Plus, there were nuanced flavors of each movement: a sassy head tilt, an angry head tilt, a confused head tilt. Soon enough, you’d be able to create a dictionary of the Mandalorian’s body language. 

It was strange to think that you’d only been with him for a few weeks, and you might be the only person in the galaxy who could read him so well.

Something else you’d come to learn about Mando was that he was very particular about where his things were kept. This made sense—he’d clearly been living alone for years, if not decades. Of course someone with such a nomadic, unsettled lifestyle would want to carefully control what little in his environment that he could, but his compulsive organization was next level.

You came to this conclusion after you scooted his toothbrush and toothpaste over just slightly in the med cabinet to make a space for yours. The next morning, you opened the cabinet to find his things exactly where they had been before you’d moved them. You looked down to see that yours were sitting precariously on the edge of the sink, waiting to fall to the floor at the first sign of turbulence. Seriously?

That inspired you to devise a fun game—well, it was fun for you. You were pretty sure Mando hated it, though to his credit, he didn’t say anything about it for several days. Every day, you’d move one of his items just slightly to see if he’d notice and move it back. So far, he’d caught every tiny adjustment. He even reoriented his bar of soap when you moved it so it sat slightly off-kilter in its dish in the shower. He hadn’t even showered yet that day.

After three days, he finally cracked.

He was digging through a storage compartment, huffing dramatically though his modulator as he searched for something.

“I can’t imagine you’ve lost something,” you said, from where you were sitting on a crate sharing a ration pack with the kid, who was perched on your lap. “Not with how terrifyingly organized you are.”

“Yeah, well, that was only true before you started moving my stuff around.” 

You grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

“I was wondering when you were going to stop,” he huffed, but you detected the lightest trace of amusement in his tone.

“I haven’t actually moved anything,” you laughed. “Just... adjusted.”

He harrumphed, still digging around in the box.

The kid chittered and reached toward your hand for more food. You gave him another piece.

“If you let me leave my toothbrush and toothpaste in the med cabinet, I’ll stop.”

He looked up. “That’s it?”

“I’m a reasonable woman.”

“Deal.”

When you went to brush your teeth that night, one of the three shelves in the med cabinet had been completely cleared for you.

As you slowly began to insinuate yourself into Mando and the kid’s life, the guilt of not telling him about the bounty on your head started to weigh heavier on your mind. He deserved to know, but you couldn’t imagine him letting you stay if he found out. Why would he assume any extra risk? I’ll tell him soon. We probably won’t be together much longer anyways.

***

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

The unfamiliar voice of the bounty hunter echoed over the com in the cockpit. A ship was hot on your tail, landing several shots that rattled the Crest violently. The child, who was strapped into the seat beside you, seemed to enjoy the excitement of the chase, arms raised and giggling. Mando maneuvered the Crest quickly and deftly, so the pursuer was suddenly directly in front of the viewport.

“That’s my line,” he said dramatically, as he pulled the trigger and obliterated the ship in his sights.

Despite the fact that your heart was pounding in your chest, you couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh at that. 

The chase had been short-lived, but the hunter had managed to inflict some serious damage. Alarms beeped and warning lights flashed along the console.

“Losing fuel,” said Mando. He was working hastily, his hands flying from one control to the next. He was trying to address several warning alarms at once.

“You work on that. I got this,” you said, unbuckling.

You stood next to him, attending to the controls in front of you.

“What are—Don’t do that,” he said, “Stop. I need to—”

He didn’t finish his sentence when he realized you were doing exactly what needed to be done to stabilize the ship.

“I thought you said you worked in programming.”

“I did. Mostly avionics.”

The second thruster sputtered and died. The cockpit went dark. All of the usual mechanical sounds that the ship made whirred to a halt. Mando turned in surprise, looking around. He clicked a few buttons. Nothing happened.

The child giggled from his seat.

“I’ll get it.” You walked to the back of the cockpit and wrenched open a panel to do a manual reset of the controls. Some of the lights came back on. Mando flicked several switches, and the displays came alive.

Together, you got the ship in good enough shape to limp to a nearby planet. Luckily, you were already close to Tatooine. The Razor Crest rattled alarmingly as it cleared the atmosphere, and Mando landed the ship with an unceremonious clunk in a bay in Mos Eisley.

Mando left the now sleeping baby in his bunk, despite your objections. That never works. He walked down the ramp to haggle with the mechanic.

Peli was a gruff woman, sassy and straightforward. You liked her right away. Mando deserved the sass Peli dished out, considering he had begun their interaction by shooting at her pit droids when they tried to approach the Crest.

He really hates droids.

You and Mando headed to the cantina to inquire about work. As soon as the ship went dead, you’d both known you’d need to pull a job to pay to fix the damage because there was no way the Crest was making it to your destination in its current state.

You trailed a few steps behind him, watching the intimidating way he stalked down the sandy street, his cape billowing behind him. He seemed less scary now that you knew he secretly had a sense of humor and an occasional flair for the dramatic. And that he once let you sleep on his shoulder. And tied your shoe for you.

When you entered the cantina, you shivered from the abrupt change in temperature. Outside the twin suns beat down; inside the dark cantina, it was cool.

Mando strode up to the bar. You followed him, taking in your surroundings.

“Hey, droid. I’m a hunter. I’m looking for some work.”

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine,” replied the droid in a stilted voice.

“It doesn’t have to be Guild work,” you clarified.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation,” said the droid, continuing to wipe down the surface of the bar with a rag.

“Think again, tin can,” interrupted a smug voice behind you. You and Mando turned.

A young man, his legs propped brazenly on the table in front of him, continued, “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friends.” He gestured to the seats across from him.

“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican. Come on, relax.” He beckoned for you to join him again.

You and Mando exchanged a look and walked over to where he was seated.

Toro swung his legs off the table and slapped a bounty puck down in front of him as you slid into the booth and Mando followed.

“Picked up this bounty punk before I left the Mid Rim,” Toro explained. The hazy image of a woman with dark hair hovered over the puck. “Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she’s been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

Toro had thick brown hair and dark eyes, a boyish face despite the scruff of five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He couldn’t be older than 25.

“I’ve heard the name,” said Mando.

You nodded beside him. Fennec Shand was a legend. Having been chased by enough hunters, you were familiar with the big players.

“Yeah, well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she’s headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” He shrugged.

This kid clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

“Well, good luck with that,” said Mando, standing up. You stayed where you were, relaxed against the back of the booth.

“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Toro looked from Mando to you, confused.

“How long you been with the Guild?” asked Mando.

“Long enough,” Toro spat unconvincingly.

“Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won’t make it past sunrise.”

Mando looked at you and jerked his head to signal that it was time to go. He started to walk away. You stayed seated, saying nothing.

Toro looked at you, pleading. You nodded toward Mando: “You’ll have to convince him.”

Toro scrambled after him. Mando turned to face him, and Toro had to look up to meet his visor.

“This is my first job,” he admitted in a strained voice. “You guys can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can’t do it alone.”

Mando looked to you. You smiled knowingly, and he let out a sigh and nodded.

The man cannot say no to someone who needs help.

Toro was visibly relieved.

“Meet us at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring three speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” instructed Mando, holding out a hand.

Toro’s shoulders pulled together. Someone doesn’t want to let go of the fob.

Without any warning, he smashed the fob on the wall. It sparked.

Mando gave Toro his angry head tilt.

“Don’t worry, got it all memorized,” assured Toro, tapping a finger on his temple.

“Half an hour,” growled Mando.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, guys,” Toro said triumphantly, turning to look at you.

Mando pushed past Toro and walked back to the booth, leaning down toward you. “I am not that predictable,” he muttered in a low, irritated voice.

“You really are,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll meet you at the hangar in 20. I want real food.”

He nodded and left.

Toro looked very pleased with himself, grinning at you.

“You better go track down those bikes,” you reminded him, gesturing for a droid to come take your order.

Toro ignored your advice. Instead, he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl and slid back into the booth across from you.

“You know what? I have an even better idea. Me and you can take Fennec ourselves. You look like a girl who can handle herself. Let’s ditch that rusty bucket right now and do this together. Fewer people to split the reward.” His eyes sparkled.

Is he fucking serious?

You already weren’t a huge fan of Toro and his cocky attitude, but the minute he called you “girl” like that, your regard for him plummeted. What little patience you had for this kid was wearing thin.

“Not interested.”

The droid came over, and you placed your order.

Toro, still looking at you expectantly, scooted around the table to sit next to you, and you moved in the opposite direction to maintain the distance between you.

“Mando is old, you know? I don’t know if you can tell, but I can. That’s an old man under that shiny armor. You look like you need someone younger to keep up with you.” He winked conspiratorially, as if the two of you were sharing a mutual joke.

You watched him through narrowed eyes, a sour feeling settling in your stomach.

He was clearly terrible at reading people because he responded to your disgusted look by reaching over to run a heavy hand along the inside of your thigh. He barely made it an inch past your knee when you ripped his hand off your leg, tightening your fingers around his wrist until your nails dug into his skin.

“Touch me again and lose a hand,” you spat at him, releasing him and pushing up from the table. You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of the blade at your hip.

“Whoa, whoa! I was just being friendly, sweetheart,” he said loudly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He looked around at the other patrons as if seeking outside confirmation that you were the one who was being unreasonable in this situation.

“You should leave.”

“I was obviously kidding about ditching Mando,” said Toro, shaking his head. “You really need to lighten up.” He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.

You spared him a biting response, fixing him with a glare instead.

“I’ll go find those bikes.” He stood to leave, purposefully brushing past your shoulder as he went.

***

After finishing your meal, you stalked out of the cantina and back to the terminal to find Mando.

He was sitting at the top of the ramp of the Crest fiddling with an open control panel in the wall. He looked up to nod at you when he heard you approach.

“I don’t like that kid, Mando. I don’t trust him. I don’t think we should do this.” You stopped in front of him and put your hands on your hips.

“I know. He’s inexperienced, but he’s harmless.”

“No, that’s what I’m saying—he’s not harmless.”

“What did he say to you?” Mando continued working on the open control panel, only vaguely listening to you.

“He tried to talk me into ditching you and teaming up with him, so we didn’t have to split the reward three ways... He also hit on me.” You added the last part as an afterthought and grimaced at the memory of his gross hand on your thigh.

His head snapped up to look at you. “He—what?”

You looked at him, waiting for him to verbalize a more coherent question. You weren’t sure which part of what you’d shared horrified him the most.

“I—what—uh, yeah, I know... I don’t trust him either,” he continued, “but there are two of us and only one of him. We need the credits—and we’ll get the full reward, like he agreed, whether he likes it or not. We’re not going to find many other jobs here, and I don’t think he’s smart enough to pull anything.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. Toro doesn’t seem capable of critical thinking, let alone concocting and carrying out an elaborate scheme. The bounty was too high and other jobs too scarce to resist.

“We’ll keep a close eye on him. Let’s just finish this job quickly, and then you, me, and the kid can move on.”

“Okay,” you agreed, reluctantly. The way he emphasized the fact that you and him and the kid were a team was an obvious attempt to quell your worries. And it did. Mostly. It was a little startling how well he knew you already.

“Where’s the baby?” you asked, suddenly realizing the door to his bunk was open, and it was empty.

“He left the ship, and Peli found him. She agreed to take care of him while we do this job.”

Again, here he is, trusting a complete stranger.

“I told you he never stays put,” you scowled.

“Don’t worry, Peli already gave me an earful about how much I don’t know about kids.” He sounded defeated, so you decided not to pile on.

“You’re doing a good job, you know. The kid really loves you.”

He seemed surprised by your sincerity, his shoulders pulling back slightly. “I’m not, but thanks.”

It hurt your heart a little to hear him say that. 

***

When you left the terminal fifteen minutes later, Toro was outside, leaning against one of two speeder bikes with a cocky smile on his face.

Peli, who was holding the kid and arguing with Mando about payment, stood in the doorway to see you off. You caught the curious look that Toro gave the baby in Peli’s arms.

“Hey, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh? I could only track down two. You guys will have to share,” Toro said.

You and Mando looked at each other. Mando started to inspect the bike closest to you. Before he could beat you to it, you threw a leg over the speeder bike and sat down at the front of the seat.

“What are you doing?” Mando asked you.

“Driving,” you said, shrugging and reaching into your bag. You pulled on a pair of googles and wrapped a scarf around your nose and mouth. You secured your bag on the back of the bike.

When you noticed that Mando had made no move to join you, you looked at him and tipped your head back toward the seat behind you. “Let’s go.”

You could tell by the resigned drop in his shoulders that he knew it would be more work to try to convince you to scoot back than was worth it. He climbed on the speeder behind you, crowding you forward and reaching his long arms around you to grab the controls.

“Nope. Nice try,” you said, slapping his gloved hands away and grasping the controls yourself.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your middle. You hoped he didn’t notice the goose bumps that appeared on your neck when he touched you. It was way too warm out under the two blazing suns to explain them away.

You jerked your wrists down and leaned forward to take off across the open sand, not waiting for Toro to mount his speeder.

“What the hell??” he yelled after you.

He caught up after a few moments.

After awhile, you let yourself relax back against Mando’s chest, and you smiled to yourself when he tightened his arms around you. 

The suns slipped lower in the sky as you coasted over the shifting surface of the Dune Sea.

***

You and Toro slowed your bikes to a halt when Mando released your waist to hold up a fist.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“Look. Up ahead,” The rasp of Mando’s modulator in your ear and the concurrent rumble in his chest made you shiver, so you hastily hopped off the bike.

Mando stayed seated while you and Toro each pulled out a set of binocs to scan the landscape. Neither of you had the heightened vision that Mando’s helmet afforded him.

Through your binocs, you spotted two Tusken raiders standing beside two very hairy Banthas a short distance ahead. You lowered your binocs and scanned the immediate area.

“Tusken raiders. I heard the locals talking about this filth,” spat Toro, who was still watching them through his binocs.

You stepped back toward the bike as two Tuskens crested the hill you were on. Mando reached out a hand to grab your wrist, squeezing gently. You looked at him, and he nodded reassuringly.

“Tuskens think they’re the locals,” Mando said coolly, turning back to Toro. “Everyone else is just trespassing.”

“Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” Toro remarked.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” asked Mando.

You grinned. There’s that flair for the dramatic.

Toro turned, and the two Tuskens screeched at him. You laughed at the way Toro positively jumped. Mando stood, raising a calming hand toward Toro, and told him to relax. You followed him as he approached the Tuskens and started gesturing to them, clearly proficient in their sign-based language.

Mando’s hands moved smoothly though deft, controlled movements. You looked down and bit your lip, trying to focus on twisting the toe of your boot back and forth in the sand to prevent your mind from wandering somewhere less appropriate.

“What are you doing?” Toro asked Mando.

“Negotiating.”

The Tuskens signed back to Mando.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“We need passage across their land.”

“What did you think he meant by “negotiating”?” you said, raising your eyebrows at Toro.

“Let me see your binocs,” said Mando, holding out a hand to Toro.

“Why?”

Mando said nothing but kept his hand out, waiting. The two suns, now low in the sky, reflected brightly off his helmet. Toro handed them over begrudgingly, and Mando tossed them to the Tuskens. The Tuskens looked satisfied with their payment.

“He—hey! What? Those were brand new!” stuttered Toro in surprise.

“Yeah? They were.” Mando stalked away and remounted the speeder bike. You followed him.

And there’s that sense of humor. It’s sassy.

“You couldn’t have taken hers instead?” Toro asked, nodding at you.

“Nope,” said Mando.

You smiled sweetly at Toro as Mando scooted back in the seat and let you climb on in front of him.

***

The next time you stopped more abruptly. Mando raised his fist and barked, “Get down!”

You and Mando sprang off your bike in unison and crouched down. Toro, struggling to keep up with what was happening, fumbled with his goggles before following suit.

The three of you made your way to the edge of the dune in front of you, staying low. You set yourselves up on your stomachs at the top of the rise. Not far below, a dewback trudged forward slowly with what looked like a dead rider trailing after it, a rein wrapped around the figure’s limp ankle.

“Is that her? Is that the target?” asked Toro.

“I don’t know... I’ll go.” He looked at you to say, “You two cover me.”

You nodded.

He looked at Toro to emphasize, “Stay down.”

You and Toro pulled out your blasters. Mando ran hurriedly down the dune, his own blaster drawn. He approached the dewback slowly with a reassuring, “Whoa, whoa.”

Mando flipped over the prone body.

“So, is it her? Is she dead?” yelled Toro.

Mando turned, “It’s another bounty hunter.”

Toro turned to look at you. “He’s not planning to keep all that stuff for himself, right? I at least want that blaster.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you shut up for one second?”

He gave you a disbelieving look. You ignored him and focused your attention back on Mando.

Mando started to rise, turning suddenly to yell, “GET DOWN!” as blaster fire hit his pauldron, knocking him to the ground.

“Mando!” you yelled.

He scrambled back to his feet and broke into a run. He crested the hill as a second shot screamed after him. Again, it hit him in the beskar, sound reverberating off the metal. He threw himself down with a grunt, rolling towards you in a shower of sand.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get hit, right?” You reached out towards him.

“Yeah, it hit me in the beskar. And at that range, the beskar held up.” He sounded winded.

“What happened?” asked Toro, as Mando set himself back up on the crest of the hill, lying between you and Toro.

“Sniper bolt. Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot.”

“Fennec,” you said. Mando nodded.

“Did you see where the shot came from?” he asked you.

“Yeah, from that ridge.” You pointed.

“Okay, we’re gonna wait until dark.”

“Well, what if she escapes?” asked Toro from where he was resting on his elbows on the other side of Mando.

“She’s got a good position,” you said. “She’s not moving.”

“Exactly,” agreed Mando. “She’ll wait for us to make the first move.”

Mando rolled over and stood only part of the way up, offering a hand down to you. You grasped it and got to your feet. You both hunched low to keep yourselves behind the protective swell of the dune.

“We’re gonna rest. You take the first watch. Stay low,” Mando said to Toro.

You followed Mando back to the bikes.

“Be extra careful. I don’t like you being out here with no beskar,” he said to you, more quietly.

“I will.” 

Your stomach clenched at the way Mando’s voice warmed when he was talking only to you. He spoke to Toro in a clipped tone, like he was scolding an unruly kid. He spoke to you like an equal, a partner. You couldn’t pinpoint when he’d started talking to you this way, but it had shifted recently. It was a tone you’d heard him use with the kid and with Omera. Something that felt a lot like hope sparked in your chest at this realization.

He slumped down against your speeder bike and reached up to pull you down next to him. You leaned back against the bike next to him, your body flush with his, and let your cheek fall against his shoulder.

After a few moments, you could hear a light snore rasping through his modulator. Apparently this man can fall asleep anywhere.

Eventually, you fell into a light sleep, not trusting Toro enough to sleep deeply.

***

You woke to Toro saying, “Time to ride, guys.”

“Come on, wake up!”

You opened your eyes and lifted your head. It was dark out; the last lavender traces of the sunset were disappearing along the horizon. Mando was still beside you, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Look at him, asleep on the job. I told you he was an old man,” leered Toro.

You felt the cadence of Mando’s breathing shift beside you.

“You’re right. He’s ancient—basically dead already,” you quipped, patting Mando on the knee to signal that you knew he was awake.

Toro couldn’t tell if you were mocking him or joking with him, so he just looked at you, slack-jawed, trying to parse it out.

“Not quite,” Mando said, jabbing you in the ribs lightly with his elbow. Toro started at Mando’s words.

You stood, this time extending a hand down to help Mando up. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else—he weighed way more with that armor on than you could ever lift. Nonetheless, he took your hand as he hauled himself to his feet.

“We’re going to ride as fast as we can towards those rocks,” explained Mando, pointing to where Fennec was presumably perched.

“That’s your plan?” scoffed Toro. “She’ll snipe us right off the bikes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem remember the amazing plan that you came up with?” you sniped, raising your hands in disbelief.

Mando snickered, a short rasp through the modulator, and in answer to Toro’s question, he tossed a small item his way then handed something to you.

“They’re flash charges. You two will alternate shots. It’ll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed, and we got a chance.”

You looked down at the charge in your hand, noting the button that would set it off.

“A chance?!” blurted Toro.

You bit back a scathing retort, turning back to your bike.

“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” replied Mando, tipping his helmet at Toro.

Mando stepped close to you, lowering his voice. “Let me sit in front this time. In case she manages to make any shots.”

You nodded in agreement, appreciating his protective nature.

You mounted the bike behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, the charge grasped tightly in your right hand. Mando wrenched his wrists down, and your speeder bike took off, with Toro in your wake.

Mando pushed the bike as fast as it could possibly go, launching it over the swells of sand. You gripped him tighter, and the wind whipped the edges of his cape against your legs.

Apparently Fennec spotted you easily from her vantage point on the cliff because she started her assault immediately, firing at Toro’s speeder first.

Mando reached one hand down for a moment to squeeze your arm, and you understood. Holding his waist tightly with your left arm, you reached your right one up into the air to set off the charge. It went off with a screech. Even through your closed eyelids, you registered the blinding flash of light.

Fennec recovered fairly quickly. She resumed firing only moments after the light dissipated. Mando weaved the bike in a serpentine pattern to avoid the shots.

He turned to Toro and yelled, “NOW!”

Toro let off a charge. Another searing light rippled across the landscape.

After a moment, Fennec fired again, her aim becoming more precise as you drew closer to the cliff. This time, she didn’t miss. A direct shot screamed across the sand and hit the front of your speeder bike. You let go of Mando in the jolt of the impact, and you both flew over the top of the bike and landed in the sand.

Ouch.

Toro zoomed past, looking back for only a second. You didn’t like how easily he left you both behind, but logically, you knew that someone needed to get to Fennec as soon as possible.

You stayed prone on the sand, lifting just your head to see where Mando had fallen a few feet ahead of you. You were relieved when he sprang to his feet and ran back towards you. Without any warning, he lowered himself down over you to protect you from any more incoming fire. He braced himself on his elbows and knees so his body was pressed against yours, but he wasn’t crushing you with the combined weight of his body and armor.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice right behind your ear.

“Yeah.” Your face was pressed against the warm sand. “You?”

“Good. You got the charge?”

You handed it up to him. Luckily, you’d managed to hold onto it during the impact. Mando fumbled for a moment, then lifted an arm to set it off.

After the searing light faded and the dark blanket of night returned, another blaster shot landed in the sand a few feet from your head. Mando edged forward and rested his helmet on the sand above your head. You were completely shielded.

“Thanks,” you muttered up to him, slightly self-conscious that this purely protective position was affecting you so much, a slow heat coiling tight in your stomach. His whole body was flush with yours, his breath heavy and fast in your ear, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his armored chest against your back. The places where he wasn’t covered by beskar pressed warmly against you. Think about anything else.

A shot pinged off his back. Mando tensed and grunted at the impact. You gritted your teeth and focused on burying your fingers in the sand, definitely not thinking about what other things might draw similar sounds from him.

“Alright, I think Toro got to her. Let’s go, but stay behind me,” Mando rasped in your ear, squeezing your shoulder with a gloved hand.

You nodded beneath him, stifling the shiver that was threatening to run up your spine. Think about anything else.

He rolled off you, and you both got to your feet. You breathed a sigh of relief and positioned yourself at his back, both of you drawing your blasters. In the dark, you could see red streaks of blaster fire on the cliff where Fennec had been perched.

“We gotta run,” you yelled, pushing him forward. “Toro wont be able to take her alone, Mando!”

You stayed close behind him, a hand on his lower back, so he knew you were with him.

When you reached the foot of the cliff, you could hear Toro’s groans and Fennec’s grunts, but you couldn’t see them. You and Mando scrambled up the sandy incline that was littered with boulders and crested the cliff right as Fennec wrestled Toro to the ground.

“Nice distraction,” said Mando, training his blaster on Fennec. She reluctantly released Toro from her hold and put her hands up in defeat. You waited, partially concealed behind Mando until you knew she was restrained.

Toro grunted in pain as he stood up slowly.

“Cuff yourself,” Mando ordered Fennec, tossing the cuffs in front of her.

“A Mandalorian. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind.” She stood. “Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn’t go so well there, but it looks like you got off easy.”

Fuck, just how much has she heard about what went down on Nevarro?

Fennec smiled even wider when you stepped out from behind Mando. There was no avoiding her now. Sure enough, recognition flickered in her eyes.

Uh oh.

“Well, well, well... if it isn’t my favorite bounty,” she drawled, and before you could react, your name—your real name—fell from her lips. “You lead me all over the damn galaxy, sweetheart.”

***

Chapter 6

[capsironunderoos]

Fire

DINCEMBER - December 7 - Fire

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Reader

Summary: Din’s cyare has been captured and held at an Imperial base, and he stops at nothing to get her back.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of torture via Imps, a very angry Din, some fighting, and very brief mentions of death

Author’s Note: Ahhh this is so overdue! My student teaching started back up again after finals and I had some assignments to complete for it that kept me from writing. I had hoped to write more today, but that just didn’t happen. I hope to just post a bunch of the Dincember prompts at once in the next few days to get back on track! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hoth Chocolate

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

This is the hardest that he has ever pushed his body. 

His arms are weak and his legs tremble, but he doesn’t stop. 

He can’t stop. 

If he does, he will suffer an unbearable loss, and there is only so much he can carry, so much that he can endure. 

His blaster never leaves his hand, becoming almost an extension of himself as he fires without so much as a glance. 

It makes no difference, the blaster bolt hits homes every time. 

He is focused, his skills as a bounty hunter and Mandalorian warrior continuing to serve him as he tears through the Imperial facility. 

Din thinks to himself that the Imps are beginning to multiply faster than womp rats, but he does not stop to dwell on the implications of that thought. 

If he stops for anything, to catch his breath, to check his surroundings, he will surely collapse. 

The stress of the past few days, of the constant searching and questioning have begun to take their toll. 

He shakes the thought of stopping from his mind, forcing himself to continue, regardless of the pain in his legs, and the ache that has already settled into his shoulders. 

He has never fought so hard before. 

His hands land punches that force the receivers into the nearest wall, and his feet connect to bones with such strength that the sound of their cracking rattles around his helmet like thunder. 

He spots an officer now, watches as he is hunched over a switchboard, punching at buttons as he glances from the control panel to the Mandalorian stalking towards him. 

Din will not admit it, but the fear in his eyes spurs him on. 

Good, he thinks, let them tremble before me, let them be afraid of the repercussions of what they have done. 

When he reaches the control panel, he grabs the officer by his throat, pushing him as he walks until they reach the wall. 

The officer’s head bounces off of the wall from the force of Din’s hand around his throat, cueing his hat to fall, and the echoing thud of his skull settles into a sick sense of satisfaction in Din’s stomach. 

“Where is she?” 

He growls out from behind his helmet, and the modulator amplifies the anger tenfold. 

The officer is visibly sweating now, thick bullets running down his forehead as he tries to look anywhere but at the enraged Mandalorian in front of him. 

This only stokes the fury growing in Din’s chest, and he picks his hand up off of the officer’s neck just long enough for him to gulp in a breath of air before his hand is settled around his throat again, and this time Din does not hold back. 

He cannot stop himself before a sickening crack fills the room around him, and the officer falls to the ground below him. 

Din huffs in annoyance, his adrenaline beginning to surge again. 

The pounding of his feet begins to subside as the chemical overtakes his body, and he feels a renewing sense of energy. 

He strides over to the control panel and is pleased to see different angles of a room displayed on it. 

The feed is live, and he stands stoically still as he sees you suddenly fall into frame. 

Your clothes are tattered and dirty, and your hair falls around your face as you collide with the floor. 

He can see your chest rising and falling, and a sense of relief begins to overtake the adrenaline. 

Din silently chants for you to get up, to show him that you never gave up hope that he would come for you. 

Maker how he hopes and wishes that you never gave up on him, that you always knew that he would travel to the farthest edges of the Outer Rim just to have you safe again. 

His heart rate speeds up when he sees two stormtroopers taking their time as they walk to where you still lay on the floor. It’s clear that they are speaking amongst themselves, but he doesn’t know how to work the control panel in order to hear what they are saying. 

He watches as one of them bends down to scoop you up and off of the floor, and as soon as he does, you leap up, swinging your leg to knock his out from under him. He lands on his back, and before either of them can react, you have grabbed his blaster, aimed, and expertly killed the both of them. 

Din watches with bated breath now, and he isn’t sure he remembers how to move. 

Seeing such a small glimpse of you, and in such a drastically different mental state than the last time he saw you, is enough for him to forget how to even breathe at all. 

His brain screams at him to move, to find you, but he does not listen until he sees you run out of the frame. 

He locates the identification numbers of your cell on the control panel and begins to run. 

Din is sure that the pounding of his feet against the floor would be enough to crack the tile, but he doesn’t care. 

He pushes himself, harder than he ever has before, to reach you as quickly as he can. 

You have been gone from his presence for far too long, and he cannot stand another second without you. 

As he rounds yet another corner, he knocks into something solid, and further extends his already drawn blaster in order for it to be in front of him, pointing at whatever he just knocked over. 

His actions quickly change as he registers that it’s you. 

You quickly jump to your feet, the trooper’s blaster you had stolen aimed at Din. 

He notices your hands shaking, and he can see bruises and cuts laced around your face. He notes how swollen your right eye is, and the blood resting against your split lip. 

“Din?” You whisper, almost in disbelief, and his heart plummets to his stomach. 

Had you given up hope that he would come for you? 

“They said you were here, but I didn’t believe them. I’m sorry, I didn’t believe them,” you begin to repeat your words, and Din notes that you are still aiming the blaster at him. 

He slowly holsters his own, before raising his hands in surrender in front of him. 

“Cyare, it’s me. It’s me. It’s Din.” 

He repeats, hoping that the words will register and that you will lower the blaster. 

Upon hearing his name, you do just that, and the blaster clatters to the ground before you fall into his raised arms. He is caught off-guard, but moves quickly to catch you before you meet the ground. 

You are crying now, soft whimpers as you clutch onto the chestplate of his beskar. 

He wraps you up into his chest, pulling you to him as he holds you. 

The alarms are blaring, and the lights are starting to flash, but he ignores all of it. 

When he hears the distant tone of talk through a stormtrooper helmet, he does not hesitate to scoop you into his arms. When you don’t protest, he looks down to see that you are either sleeping or have passed out, and he hopes that it’s the former. 

Despite the fact that he had to fight his way in, he manages to remember a way out, and by some miracle he doesn’t run into any trouble, except a mouse droid he has to shoo off. 

Once he emerges into daylight again, he begins running and he feels his body physically sigh in relief when he sees the Crest sitting just before him.

---

After jumping onto the Crest and immediately taking-off, Din quickly discovered that you had indeed passed out. He had let you be for the few moments it took him to launch the Razor Crest, but as soon as he was able to click on the auto-pilot he was back at your side, moving you to rest on the cot the both of you share. 

He sits beside you on said cot now, his hands moving to cup your face and turn it towards him. 

“Cyar’ika. Please wake up,” he begs, and oh, how he begs. 

He begins to make promises to the Maker, to the stars, hell, he thinks he even makes a promise to the force at one point. 

Din knows you require medical attention, but he wants you awake so that you can explain to him what has happened to you, even if he is unsure that he will be able to listen to you describe what you have endured. 

His hands move to your shoulders, and with a firm, but gentle, shake you gasp back into consciousness. 

You grab at his arms and he helps you sit up before realizing that you think he is one of them. 

“Cyare, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me, it’s Din.” He whispers, and you look at him with wild, wide eyes. 

He can tell you are trying to figure out if you should trust him, but when you catch a glimpse of the signet on his right shoulder pauldron relief instantly floods your eyes and you look down at the similar symbol on your skin. 

His right hand finds it, his glove-clad fingers coming to rest against the mudhorn there on your wrist. 

You look back up at him then, and you can feel the emotion and exhaustion rolling off of him. 

“I need to get you cleaned up,” he deadpans, but his words are soft and laced with care. 

You nod and allow him to lead you into the cockpit of the Crest. 

He softly guides you into the pilot’s seat before he disappears for a minute to retrieve supplies, but you barely notice his missing presence. 

Your eyes have found the stars, and you drink them in as if they are cold Bantha milk. 

It had been days since you had seen them, and you missed how many there were, how easy it was to stare at them and have them calm every thought in your mind. 

When Din returns, he stands for a moment to watch you look at the stars in wonder. 

Their light shines into the Crest, illuminating the cockpit and painting a stark silver onto your features. He notices then just how bad your bruised eye is swelling, and how the bright light from the stars seems to deepen every cut he finds on your skin. 

Din can’t help but to let out a shaky sigh at the thought of what you’ve been through, and at the thought of what would have happened had he not gotten there when he did. 

Hearing his breath escape through the modulator cues you to snap your attention in his direction, and he wonders how long it will be before his presence no longer incites fear. 

“Cyar’ika, it’s me. It’s your Din. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Your eyes stay wide and wary, but a small smile works its way onto your lips before it falls again. The cut on them has begun to bleed at the motion, and Din slowly makes his way to you to tend to it. 

He squats down in front of you, and you sit rigidly still. 

He lifts a wet cloth in front of you, and watches as you look between it and him. 

“I need to clean that up, okay? Is it okay if I do that for you?” 

You slowly nod, and his left hand moves to cup your cheek and keep your head still as his right gently swipes at the blood sitting on your lip. When he is satisfied that he has stopped the blood flow, he exchanges the cloth for another. 

“Now, cyare, I need to clean up the cuts and bruises here okay?” 

At the word “here,” he taps his left thumb softly against your cheek as his hand still cups your face. 

You nod and he removes his hand to brush the hair out of your eyes and away from your face. 

You whimper at the loss of contact, and the sound and action is so unlike you that it catches Din off-guard. 

“Haar’chak, what did they do to you?” 

He whispers, and he takes note of the tears that begin to sit along your waterline in response. 

“I wouldn’t tell them,” you start, and your voice cracks at the use of it. 

Din is quick to hand you a glass of water, and you take it from him, greedily gulping it down. He wonders then if you have been fed or given water at all since your capture. 

“I wouldn’t tell them where you were, or where he was. That got me time with some angry troopers. I think they may have broken a rib or two. One of them could land a pretty solid right-hook, for an Imp.” 

You try to laugh off your words, to pass over them as if they are nothing, but the sound won't come. A sad smile rests on your lips as Din continues his ministrations. His touch is soft as he does his best to clean the cuts on your face.

“Then I wouldn’t tell them your name, or the name of the child, and that afforded me a visit from an angry officer. He asked for the cameras to be turned off, and then proceeded to beat me so bad that I couldn’t stay conscious for most of it.” 

Din can feel his hands beginning to tremble as he continues to clean you up. They shake in both anger and sadness, and he is glad that it is time to apply the bacta patches. This gives him a moment to gain control over his nerves.

“I need to apply bacta now, okay?” He asks, and you nod. 

When the medicine hits your open wounds, a sharp hiss escapes through your gritted teeth, and Din’s heart constricts at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and you shake your head before talking again, trying to mask the pain of the healing agent against your open cuts. 

“When I didn’t tell them if he was special, or gifted, or whatever they want to call him, they sent in the firing squad. That was when they told me you were there to rescue me. I didn’t fully believe them, but I knew if you were there that it would be my best chance to escape.” 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you, cyare.”

You place your hand on his arm that rests in your lap, and he glances down at it.

“I never gave up that you would come for me, Din.”

He nods and returns to his work, his heart beating so fast he is sure that you can hear it hitting the beskar that sits on his chest.

As you sit in silence now, Din softly rubs at the cuts on your skin, his mind growing increasingly angry the more he thinks about what you endured, but his heart reaches out to you, aches for you. 

He was in pain too, upset that your capture had been because of him. That they had tortured you to get to him, to learn about the little one. 

As if you can read his mind, you ask him about Grogu.

“Where is he, Din? Please, please tell me he is okay,” you whisper, and it is the first time Din has been able to fully meet your eyes. 

“He is safe, cyare. I left him with Cara on Nevarro. We’re going to get him now.” 

You nod, satisfied with his response. Din hands you a cold compress and instructs you to press it onto your swollen eye. 

“I got this when I wouldn’t explain my relationship to you, or why I wear our clan symbol.” You mumble, and Din’s eyes flit to the mudhorn on your wrist once more. 

He thinks then about his clan of three, small and a little broken, but strong, and his all the same. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and you stare at him before he says it again, louder this time. 

“I’m sorry I turned my back for too long during that fight. I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you into this mess, this is no life for you, or the child.” 

He rushes out, and you are shaking your head in disagreement so hard that it has started to ache. 

“Do not sit there and apologize to me, Din Djarin. I know what I signed up for, and I willingly signed up for it. I would give my life to protect that child, and I would do the same for you. Have I not proven that? Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” 

Din’s helmet jumps up at the quick movement he makes upon hearing those words escape your lips. 

His eyes search yours through the visor, and he finds nothing but sincerity staring back at him. 

“I’ll kill them for what they did to you, cyar’ika.” He states, and you smile at him. 

“I would set the world on fire to keep you warm.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 9 - “Let It Snow”

[sleepwellmyprince]

hey everyone! here’s that little drabble i had talked about! i think it’s really cute, and i did try to keep johnny in character- somewhat. but it’s hard to write gruff characters like himself, and avoid putting my softer personality onto him. but i did my best! i hope you enjoy it :>

edit: i completely forgot!!! this fanfic does contain spoilers for the beginning of the game!! it is also written from the perspective of a street kid. sorry i didn’t place this here before!

Are you gonna watch me sleep, or join me?

Johnny x V / GN Reader

Night City had been exceptionally rough on you today, as it usually was. It didn’t help that a man who’d been dead for half a century was on your ass for a majority of the time. That was likely going to be the case for a long fucking time.

You’d finally gotten back to your apartment at about two in the morning. You were completely beat after running around all day, tryouts not to find a way to stop, or at least delay the process of your doom.

The door to your apartment slid open once you arrived, the lights inside switching on. As the door closed behind you, the flickering of the rockerboy you’d been forced to become familiarized with appeared by your wardrobe. He had his usual pose: arms crossed, leaning against a wall, hair slipping into his face, sunglasses threatening to fall off his nose, and that stoic, almost annoyed expression.

He looked at you through the red tint of his sunglasses, not saying anything for a moment. And you hoped that he would remain silent, god you prayed that he would, but he never really showed himself without having something to say.

“So, how was work today, sweetie?” Johnny sarcastically asked. You rolled your eyes as a response, not giving him the satisfaction of a vocal reply. You kicked your shoes off, setting them down beside your closet. He watched you closely, and as you glanced back at him, you could tell he was waiting for a true response.

For now, you wouldn’t give him one. You walked over to the bathroom, starting to run the sink. The mirror switched on, helping you to start cleaning your face. There was a small silence between you two for a moment, the only sound in the small apartment being the sound of running water.

After you shut the water off, he pressed on. “Are you gonna answer me?”

You let out a heavy sigh, continuing to stare at yourself in the mirror. Soon enough, he would appear behind you, still in that same pose. “I’m really not in the mood tonight,” you answered, reaching your hands up to rub the dark bags under your eyes.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, V.” Johnny stared at you through the mirror, taking his glasses off and playing with one of the temples between his metal fingertips.

You moved your hands away from your tired eyes, now looking down at the sink’s countertop. You reached over to grab one of the pill bottles that Misty had given you weeks ago, specifically the blue colored one. Shaking it with your hand, you looked up to Johnny through the mirror. The sound of pills rattling must have caught his attention, because he looked up from his glasses. Though, he didn’t look concerned.

“I think I do, actually. I’m pretty sure you remember the last time I popped one of these, and wherever you went when I did.” You eyed him in the mirror as you spoke, catching one of his eyebrows raising. You’d turn around, leaning back against the counter while continuing to hold up the bottle. “Now, I won’t hesitate to take some more of these, if you won’t calm down on your own. You understand?”

Johnny stood there for a moment, keeping his gaze on you for a while. He didn’t say a word, staring relentlessly with his deep brown eyes. You eventually decided to break the almost unbearable silence for him, deeming this his lack of speech was his answer.

You gently shook the bottle a final time, and placed it down on the edge of the sink. He stood still, no longer playing with his sunglasses. Eventually, you ripped your eyes away from his gaze, and proceeded to walk over to your bed. A light yawn escaped your lips as you stepped over to your bed. Johnny would reappear beside the bed, standing in the spot where you first met him in. Well, technically you first met him in... your mind? His mind? You weren’t all too sure. It was after the heist after so many people died. Including those you were close to. God, poor T-bug, and Jackie...

You fell back into the bed, your legs drifting over the side. You could feel Johnny’s eyes still on you, which frankly, might be a bit more unnerving than him talking about how he wants to take your body for himself.

Setting your arms underneath your neck to prop your head up, you look up at him. “Are you gonna just watch me sleep? Or are you gonna join me?” You asked sarcastically. This certainly caught his attention, making him let out a scoff of a chuckle.

“You’re really offering a dead guy to sleep with you? That’s pretty fucking pathetic,” he insulted, looking over you with a puzzled, yet amused expression.

“Yeah, yeah. Take it or leave it, dickhead.” You hadn’t exactly planned for this to be the actual outcome of your sarcasm, but you know what? Fuck it. Some actual human interaction after about 50 years could do the fucker some good.

You shifted your body to the side, moving to face the wall. This provided some space for Johnny, if he actually chose to lay down. Of course, you didn’t expect that to be the case, so you closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

And you would have fallen asleep, if not for a slight weight appearing beside you. Obviously, you knew it was him, but you glanced over your shoulder to look at him anyway.

He had been looking at your back however he looked up to your eyes once you glanced over. He seemed much calmer now, like he wasn’t concerned with being so big and scary anymore. Or at least, for the time being.

You weren’t exactly sure if you should say anything at all, but your curiosity tugged at your mind.

“Do you ever sleep?” You asked, slowly shifting to face him. “Do you even need to sleep?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, his brown, near black hair slowly slipping in front of his eyes due to gravity. “Whenever you sleep, I get that energy. So I guess not.” His eyes dashed down to the blankets, analyzing the fabric without any real purpose. “I haven’t tried actually sleeping since I was... revived, or whatever you want to call it.”

You let out a quiet hum and gave a small nod as a response. As much as this bitter man was an absolute pain in your ass, you still felt kind of bad for him. He was stuck with you completely, and would either be forced to live again through your body, or be killed for a second time. Frankly, you weren’t sure which outcome would be worse.

With a bit of hesitance, you reached forward to set your hand on top of his cold, metal one. It was strange, how you could feel him, and how he could still make small impacts on the world, in a sense. He could pick up objects, make floors creak underneath the weight of his body, and of course, touch and affect you.

The warmth of your hand caused him to look up from the blankets, and to your hand on his. He appeared confused at first, glancing to your eyes for a reply, or at least some sort of explanation.

It took you a moment to put together words that had actual substance to them, but you pulled them together eventually. “I’m sorry that you have to go through this crap. It must be a lot to process all at once.” You paused, seeing him scoff quietly. “I mean that, Johnny.”

He shook his head after that, letting out a quiet sigh. His lips parted, as if he was going to say something. However, he remained silent. He seemed to be stumped, unsure of whether or not to believe you. But why would you lie? You had no reason to.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing. Ain’t exactly your fault that we’re stuck together.” Johnny spoke quietly, avoiding eye contact with you once again. He flipped his arm over, his metal palm now meeting with your own. You thought about intertwining your fingers with his, but he would end up doing that for you. “I’m sorry, V.”

To hear an apology that sounded genuine from Johnny fucking Silverhand... It seemed to good to be true. But he didn’t have a reason to lie either, or at least, you didn’t think so. Instead, you chalked it up to him being tired, as were you.

You both laid there, staring down at each other’s hands. Your hand was smaller than his, but only just. Even though his arm was cold, it was still oddly comforting. You hoped that your own touch had that same effect.

You gently squeezed his hand, looking back up to give him a faint, gentle smile. “Get some sleep, Johnny. It sounds like you need it.” He gave a small chuckle to that, shifting onto his back, but still holding your hand. You remained on your side, watching as Johnny settled onto his back.

No other words were spoken that night, and no words were necessary, either. The silence between you two was peaceful, and it worked to quickly put you both to sleep. Arms still linked by your hands, a restful slumber was given to you both, which was certainly needed and deserved.

[dhwty-writes]

yay for last exam of the term! here is a little prompt, if you like: 'I think you need a hug' for geraskier :)

Thank you my dear, for this lovely prompt! I intended something much fluffier here, but this, uhhhhh, got a little out of hand. (Insert surprised reaction here) I know, I know, who would have thought that a story I’m writing--to one of your amazing prompts, of all things!--could get out of hand?! Crazy, right?

Anyways, this is a little sad (maybe even a big sad), I hope you like it regardless!

Warnings: It’s not explicitly stated, but Jaskier is depressed in this one. Approach with caution, if that’s something you’re sensitive about

Read on AO3

"Jaskier?" a worried voice asked behind him, accompanied by the familiar pattern of footfalls he had grown so accustomed to over the past years.

Jaskier's heartrate sped up immediately. 'Shit,' he cursed silently, furiously wiping at the tears streaking across his cheeks while he desperately tried to regain some kind of composure. "Over here!" he replied, trying—and failing—to steady his voice.

"What are you doing over here?" Geralt asked curiously, approaching rapidly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said much more confidently than he felt. "Sure." He snuffled to keep the snot from dripping from his nose. He was an ugly crier and well aware of it, but that was nothing Geralt needed to know.

The witcher stopped only a few paces behind him. Jaskier could practically feel the glare boring into his back as he was assessing the situation. "No," he proclaimed after a few moments of deliberation, his observation astute as ever. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," he protested stubbornly. Stupid him for stupidly crying and stupidly making Geralt worry about him. The witcher had bigger concerns, as he loved to tell him, than the trivial troubles of a troubadour.

"Liar," Geralt accused him.

Well. He wasn't wrong. "Hm," he replied.

"Jaskier," the witcher tried again. Was that alarm he detected in his voice? Surely not. "Can you turn around to me? Please?"

"Please?" he mouthed silently. He wasn't sure if Geralt had ever told him please before. It was a shocking turn of events, so shocking in fact, that he was taken off guard for a moment. When he found his bearings again, his voice was scarcely more than a whisper: "I'd rather not."

"Alright," he huffed. "Alright." A beat of silence followed. "Jaskier," Geralt said again, his voice closer than before.

"Yeah."

"Can I help you?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Can I try?"

He shrugged again.

Geralt took a deep breath. This time Jaskier could hear when he stepped closer. "Do you want me to leave?"

'Yes,' was his first instinctual answer. No-one should see him like this, floating in numbness; especially not Geralt. To shrug, was his second. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Stay, go, help, none of that mattered. But there was something inside him, nagging him; something that made him whisper the truth despite everything: "No. I don't think so."

"Thank you." It was a silly thing to respond. A stupid thing, really. But Geralt said it so— so earnestly, somehow, that it wasn't silly, wasn't stupid. It did manage to make him cry again, though, his shoulders shaking nigh unnoticeably, silent sobs rattling through his body, choking him.

"Want to know what I think?" Geralt said calmly, softly. He knew that tone. It was the same as if he was speaking to Roach when she was frightened.

'I'm not stupid horse,' he wanted to say, 'I'm a stupid human who's holding you up because of nothing at all.' But something kept the words from escaping his mouth. Something forced him to wait for whatever Geralt would say next.

What he said next, though, was an impossibility nothing on earth could have prepared him for. "I think you need a hug," Geralt of Rivia said.

It was such a surprise, in fact, that he couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

"What?" Geralt asked, evidently amused by his reaction.

For Jaskier, this wasn't amusing at all. It was downright cruel, teasing him like that; proposing something he would never follow through with. "You, Geralt of Rivia," he explained hoarsely, "do not do hugs. You are the most unhuggable person on earth, the forbidden, the impermissible, if you will."

"Hmm."

'Finally,' Jaskier thought, 'a Geralt-answer.' This conversation almost began feeling normal.

Almost, for then he said: "Can I touch you?"

"Why?" he asked warily.

"To prove you wrong."

He shrugged. If Geralt wanted to humour him, who was he to tell him no?

The first touch was a shock. Five fingertips brushing over his shoulder, sending lightning bolts from the crown of his hair down to his toes.

The second touch was a conundrum. A solid hand on the juncture of his neck and his shoulders, making him wonder what on earth the witcher was playing at.

The third touch was a pillar. A muscled arm snaking around his waist when his own knees turned to mush and threatened to collapse.

The fourth touch was an anchor. A jaw hooking over his shoulder, gently coming to a rest, his body tensing up while all he could hear were gentle, even breaths.

The final touch was a relief. A familiar body moulding itself to his back as if it belonged there; as if it had always been there.

It was so familiar, so normal, so necessary that Jaskier couldn't keep it together anymore. Beneath silly caresses and stupid "There, there, there"s he felt himself crumble to dust. His carefully erected walls ruined with nothing but a gentle touch, the tears flowed freely down his face, his knees gave out under him, he was only held upright by Geralt's arms.

Gently, the witcher lowered them to the ground; kneeling at first, then lying down. "It's alright," he kept repeating. "It's alright, I'm here, I've got you." As if that would make it true. Silly. Stupid.

"It's not," he protested helplessly, because it wasn't. "It's not, I can't, I can't, Geralt."

"I know," he said as if he wasn't talking nonsense. "I know, I've got you. You're not alone."

"It hurts," he wailed.

"Show me where." Slowly, carefully still, as if any touch too bold could make him flee, he snaked his hand under Jaskier's, intertwining their fingers. "I'm here with you."

"There," he sobbed weakly, stupidly, as he pressed his hand over the left side of his chest. "It hurts. Make it stop. Make it go numb again."

"Oh, Jaskier," Geralt murmured, "you don't mean that. Truly, you don't want that."

He shrugged.

Geralt held on tighter. "It's alright," he said again. "I'm here. I've got you."

 ~*~

 Jaskier wasn't quite sure when he regained his senses. All he knew that it was dark now and that it hadn't been when he had fled the camp. And that Geralt was still curled around him, holding on tight.

"Geralt?" he whispered, unsure if the witcher was sleeping or not. He wouldn't want to wake him, if he was. In fact, he would want him to be asleep, so that he could vanish as quickly as possible, for a few weeks maybe, so that this embarrassing episode could be conscribed to oblivion.

But Destiny was a cruel mistress, who held no mercy for him that day. "Hmm," Geralt replied, slowly stirring behind him. "Back with me?"

"I think so."

"Good. How're you feeling? Good?"

"Yeah!" he answered, trying to mask his insecurity with his usual chipper attitude. "Yeah."

Geralt pressed his nose against his neck and inhaled deeply. It was... oddly comforting. "Liar," he concluded after a moment.

Jaskier sagged forward again. "No," he confessed quietly, "I'm not. And— I'm sorry, Geralt, I don't think I'll be feeling good for quite some time. It's— It's—" Truthfully, he didn't know what it was.

But as usual this evening, Geralt had the answer: "It's alright," he promised, squeezing him a little tighter. Somehow, he believed him. "Just don't go wandering off again. You—" He hesitated, then leaned closer as if confessing a secret. Maybe it was. "You scared me."

"I thought witchers couldn't be scared."

"No, we get scared plenty. I— Hmm."

He waited patiently. After a while he had learned to discern the subtle differences between all of Geralt's 'Hmm's. There were the usuals, 'Yes'-Hmms, 'No'-Hmms, and 'Fuck off'-Hmms, the 'Roach'-Hmm's and the 'Jaskier'-Hmm's, which mostly either were 'I'm silently laughing at you'-Hmm's or 'I appreciate what you're saying, but am too emotionally constipated to tell you so, so I'm rather pretending to be annoyed'-Hmm's. And then there were rarer Hmm's such as this one, which was indisputably an 'I want to tell you something that is important to me, but don't know with which words yet; I need some time'-Hmm.

So, he waited. Eventually, Geralt would speak again. He always did and today was no exception. "I'm not scared of monsters," he said finally, "or men. I can hit those with my sword. I can protect you from them, because you're too stupid to stay put when I tell you to. But this—" He pressed his hand over Jaskier's heart again. "—I don't know how to fight this. I don't know how to save you from this. I might lose you to this." His voice was trembling. Actually trembling, too quiet for anyone to hear, but Jaskier could feel the tremors from behind him. "So, yeah. This scares me."

His voice was shaking much more clearly when he replied: "I don't know either. But," he heaved a breath, "what you did was a good start, I think." After a moment of silence, he added: "I'm sorry."

Geralt growled and flicked his ear. Somehow, it was a comforting sound. "Stop it," he commanded.

"Stop what?"

"You keep apologising."

"I'm sorry."

"There!" He flicked his ear again. "You did it again."

"I'm so— Ouch! Don't you pinch me, Geralt of Rivia, I don't mean to keep doing it!"

"Just shut up, then."

"Alright." He breathed deeply in and out. "Alright."

Jaskier managed all of three breaths before his foot started wiggling. Three more and he couldn't take it anymore: "I—"

"Don't you dare," Geralt interrupted him.

"I wasn't about to say it!" he protested. "Truly, I wasn't! I just— I wanted to thank you. You didn't have to."

He snorted. "What kind of friend would I be if I left you to be miserable on your own? It's nothing, Jaskier." He buried his face in his neck again and held on tighter. "I mean it. I'm here. I've got you."

"Thank you," he said again.

"Bed?" Geralt prompted after a while.

"I— Hmm."

He poked him in the ribs. "That's my line."

Jaskier snorted a laugh and scrunched up his nose. "It's stupid."

"As stupid as when you got pissed, chased by a gaggle of geese, and I had to rescue you from the outhouse you had fled into?"

"Hmm." He deliberated the answer. "Alright, maybe not quite as stupid. But it's a close call."

"Then tell me."

He gnawed on his lower lip. The more he thought about it, the stupider it got. Luckily, he'd never had to think to say something stupid. "I don't want you to let go of me," he blurted before he could change his mind.

"Hmm," Geralt hummed and with his lips pressed against Jaskier's neck, he could feel the smile spreading on his face.

It was a new 'Hmm', though, one he didn't quite know what to do with it. Very close to the 'You're a fool, Jaskier' or the 'I'm thinking of Kaer Morhen'-Hmm, but with something else; something that had previously been reserved for the 'Roach'-Hmm's and 'Yennefer'-Hmm's only.

Before he could come to a conclusion as to what that particular 'Hmm' meant, Geralt spoke up again: "Think you can let me let you go long enough for us to get back to the camp?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."

"Alright," he mumbled and pressed his lips to the back of his neck; short enough that it could have been an accident, long enough that it could have been something else entirely. "I've got you," he promised again. "We'll figure this out. We'll make you good again, yeah? Together."

"Together," he echoed. Somehow, sillily, stupidly, Jaskier believed him.

[echoghost1]

Ectober Day 02 - Scream!

Summary: When Sam saw that shadowy creature burst out of the locker she wanted to scream, but she's so glad that she didn't.

Words: 1,499

Since this is the Fear Form AU, a body horror warning for you.

You can read it here too just below the cut!

Sam was worried about Danny.

He’d been distant and moody lately, and at first, she just figured it was just a teenage boy thing. But then it had been a month and hadn’t gotten any better.

She felt bad for not saying anything, but she honestly wasn’t even sure what to say. She tried the general, “how are you”, but that mostly just gave her a shrug or just an “I’m okay” that sounded more like an automatic response than him actually being okay.

She decided today she was finally going to confront him about it. Or maybe just drag him along somewhere fun after school? Maybe finally invite him and Tucker over to her house?

She felt semi-confident in her plan as she and Tucker made their way over to Danny’s locker to meet up before class. They were a bit later than usual but there was still time so it should have been fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Because Dash and his goons were walking away laughing a little too much as they walked by. They usually only laughed like that if it was at someone else’s expense and the hallway was suspiciously empty.

She really hoped Danny hadn’t been shoved into his locker.

Once the jocks were gone the hallway was eerily quiet. Almost too quiet.

Then it started to get dark. Really dark, really fast.

But it wasn’t that the overhead lights had gone out, but instead, the darkness was coming from the bay of lockers.

Both she and Tucker were transfixed to the spot as one of the locker doors rattled so hard it exploded off of its hinges with a sound that she could only describe as an unholy screech. Books, papers, and pens were scattered across the hall as an inky black thing burst forth from the space and hovered above the mess it had made.

The suddenness of it all made Sam gasp in spite of how much she just wanted to stay unnoticed for once in her life.

She may love all things dark and spooky but she didn’t necessarily want to see it in person. Reading a creepy poem and wearing black was not the same as whatever was going on right now.

The thing turned to look at them and its bright green eyes were so much worse when they were looking directly at you.

“Where’s Danny?” Tucker asked in almost a whisper.

That’s when Sam realized that the locker that exploded was Danny’s.

The creature turned to look back at the locker so fast its neck cracked.

She didn’t know what was worse; that action, or the fact that it seemed to understand what Tucker said.

Then it slowly turned back to them, its toxic green eyes boring into them. Its lithe form is much too skinny and tall to be even remotely human. Not to mention that it didn’t have any legs.

Then it scrunched down onto the floor and Sam was worried that it was about to pounce on them like a wild cat.

Instead, it retreated backward so fast it was halfway on the ceiling.

Then it paused, opened the door to the janitor’s closet, and slipped inside while closing the door again.

That was... odd.

Was it not trying to scare them?

As carefully and as quietly as she could, she walked over to Danny’s locker.

He wasn’t there.

She looked back to the janitor’s closet and wondered if maybe Danny was still nearby after all.

She opened the door and the creature was still there. It was sitting on the floor and its tail was wrapped around itself.

Like it was trying to give itself a hug.

Like it was afraid.

She spoke without thinking, “Danny?”

The creature opened its mouth to speak but all that came out was indistinguishable static and moans. The tail quickly unfurled and hands instantly covered the mouth.

The shadows dripped off the creature like melting wax and faded as they reached the floor.

Underneath all the darkness was a trembling Danny. His hands were still clamped over his mouth.

She dropped to her knees and pulled him into a hug, “It’s okay! You’re okay!”

“It’s not okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he cried his apologies into her shoulder.

She leaned back and held his face in her hands, “Why are you sorry Danny?”

He pulled away from her. “Because I never wanted you to see me like that.” He pulled his hoodie sleeves up and over his fingers so the oversized fabric engulfed his hands completely, “I scared you.”

“Don’t be silly Danny,” Sam smiled as she reached out and touched his balled-up sleeve-covered hand, “you didn’t scare us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tucker scoffed from his spot lingering on the edge of the doorway.

Sam snapped her attention back to Tucker, “Not helping!” Had he never heard of a white lie?

“At least he’s being honest,” Danny muttered.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked trying not to be too annoyed with him.

Why was he undermining her attempts to comfort him?

He looked surprised that she had heard him, which was odd because they were only a few inches apart. He pulled his hand away from her and used both arms to hug his stomach, “Because I know I scared you both. I can tell.”

“How do you know?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m afraid I’d scare you more if I told you,” he admitted while still avoiding eye contact.

“Well that certainly wasn’t ominous,” Tucker quipped nervously as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Danny looked up to Tucker with the saddest resignation on his face, “If you want to go, it’s okay. I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Her heart nearly broke hearing that. No wonder he had been so distant lately. He was so sure they wouldn’t like him anymore if they knew.

Part of her was also super pissed that he thought she would just abandon him.

Luckily Tucker had immediately taken over comforting Danny.

“No one said anything about not being friends.” He started as he knelt down beside his best friend and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Sure I’m scared, we all are. That includes you, dude. I’m not going to leave you alone just because you can get spooky sometimes.”

“Get Spooky?” Danny deadpanned.

Sam had to agree that was a pretty lame way to describe the horror show of what had just happened.

“Well, what do you call it?” Tucker shrugged.

Danny looked down and pulled his knees closer to his chest, “I don’t really call it anything.” he wrapped his arms around his legs so he could pull them even closer, “I try not to think about it.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together,” Sam said as she placed her hand on his knee in an effort to show him that they really were in this together.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Tucker asked the next big question, “So, I’m probably going to hate myself for asking, but,” Tucker took a breath then sat down fully, one knee tapping against the floor while the other stayed perpendicular to his body. “How did you know Sam was scared?”

Danny looked from Tucker to Sam and bit his lip as he hesitated, “I can,” he paused and shot a worried glance at the pair before continuing, “I can smell it?”

“What does it smell like?” Sam asked unsure if she actually wanted to know the answer or not.

He simply answered, “Red.”

“Red what?” Tucker asked.

“The color.”

“The color?” he repeated sounding even more confused than when he had asked his initial question.

“Yeah.”

“You smell emotions in colors?” he asked to clarify.

Danny sat up and threw his hands out for emphasis, “Look my senses have been really weird since the accident. I think all that electricity scrambled my brains or something.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look of confused concern.

“Ghost stuff feels like flavors to me now. Like the portal, it felt sour. That might just be all ectoplasm though, or at least the raw stuff anyway. Oh and sometimes,” he paused to take a breath but then went right back into his rambling explanation, “Sometimes I have trouble holding or touching things. Like I’m not really there. And when that happens my body or just parts of it, feel spicy? But if spicy was cold instead of hot.”

“Dude,” was Tucker’s brilliant response.

“What?”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

Danny slumped back against the shelving unit behind him.

Sam didn’t think that it was entirely nonsense. “Actually I think I know.”

“You do?” the boys both asked with slight variations of confusion. Tucker’s was more towards disbelief, while Danny was a little more hopeful.

“It’s like he’s trying to translate it, but there are no words for it. Not in English anyway.”

Before she could explain it further, the bell rang.

[supercasey]

So I've been playing The Hades Game like fucking mad for the last few weeks, and although I'm not very far in it (at least, I don’t think I am; I’ve only beat Hades once!), I'm absolutely in love with it! Anyways, a certain idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile now, so I thought I'd share it with y'all; feel free to tell me what you think of it! (Warning: spoilers for when you beat Hades the first time!)

Anyways, I've already seen a really cool AU post for if Demeter raised Zagreus on the surface by herself (which you can find HERE; please check it out, the outfit for Zag alone is an amazing concept, and I love the artwork!!!) but I keep thinking about an AU where, after Zagreus dies at birth, Persephone runs away and takes his wrapped up body with her.

On the surface, she reconnects/reunites with her mother Demeter, and with her aid, the two of them manage to resurrect the newborn baby, though now he has more white in his hair than anything else. After that, Persephone sends Hades a letter to tell him that Zagreus is alive and well (because she actually has some fucking class), before proceeding to raise Zagreus on the surface with her mother, far away from the entrance to hell. The Olympians also help her out a bit, but mostly they just help by hiding Zagreus when it’s necessary.

(The rest is under a cut ‘cus this got a bit long, sorry!)

Years pass in relative peace, until Zagreus is about as old as he is in-game (I think he’s around 20-25ish???) and is living well, working with his mom and grandma to take care of their gardens and live peacefully away from mankind; he especially loves tending to the animals and guiding lost mortals to safety. However, one day while foraging for fruit in the deepest corners of his mother’s signature garden, Zagreus happens across a strange man in long robes, who introduces himself as Thanatos.

The two men get along swimmingly from minute one, and after agreeing to meet with each other again soon, they leave and tell their families/friends all about the experience, having no clue who they are to each other. After all, Thanatos was told growing up that his lord’s first wife died giving birth to their first and only child, who was a stillborn, and Zagreus thinks his father died of disease (his mom didn’t have to heart to tell him anything bad about his dad). Needless to say, they’re gonna be in for quite the shock soon.

Cue Hades losing his shit and calling on Thanatos, Megaera, and Achilles to go find his progeny and bring him home; he gives them special permission to leave the Underworld without any resistance, trusting Than to lead the way back to Zagreus. Achilles is less than thrilled to be performing such a morally grey task for his master, but Meg and Than are eager to prove themselves, so he begrudgingly agrees to help, even if it hurts his conscience to do so.

Persephone and Demeter also freak the hell out on their end, scared shitless by the fact that Death incarnate has just met their son/grandson, and they’re worried that he plans on coming back again soon. Demeter suggests sending Zagreus to live with the Olympians until this all blows over, but Persephone disagrees, wanting her son to stay nearby in case he grows ill (it’s implied that she’s a bit overprotective of him, mostly because she’s afraid of him dying again; this also means she refuses to let him know that he’s in any danger, believing it would only make things worse for him in the long-run). Frustrated but understanding her daughter’s pain all too well, Demeter at least convinces her to call on the Olympians for aid, which Persephone agrees to do.

The gods promise to help of course, but... well, they're low-key lying; they wanna see how this plays out first.

After several days of traveling through hell (literally), the “let’s kidnap Zagreus” gang makes it to the surface, and they immediately head to Persephone’s garden. All this time, Zagreus has no idea that he’s being targeted, so he goes about his chores as usual, only to run into Than again, and hey, he brought some more friends for him to meet! Zagreus is friendly with all of them, being raised to be very polite by his guardians, and while he’s busy chatting with Than and Achilles, he doesn’t notice Meg sneaking behind him. Just as Zagreus is rattling on about how the animals have been faring this summer, Meg stabs Zagreus in the back with a blade coated in Hades’s blood, cursing him to belong to the Underworld again.

With Zagreus now unconscious from a sedative that was mixed with the blood, the trio hurry off with him back to the Underworld, but not without Persephone seeing what they’ve done to her son. Horrified, she begins to sob, and winter arrives in the mortal world without so much as a fall season in-between this and the summertime.

When Zagreus comes to, he finds himself in a bedroom similar to the one he has in the game, but it’s much cleaner and has less objects of personal value to him. Hades is standing at the foot of his bed when he wakes up, and very calmly, Hades tells Zagreus that he’s his father, and that from now on, Zagreus will be living in the Underworld with him and his people, where he so obviously belongs. It’s a shame his mother can’t be here, of course, but they just need to wait awhile, that’s all; surely she’ll come to her senses and return home soon, now that her husband and son are here.

Zagreus jumps out of bed and faces his father as soon as he’s done monologuing, ready to tell him off for what he’s done, but to his shock, Hades hugs him as soon as he’s on his feet, and admits that he’s waited for this day for a long, long time. He asks his son to please just accept that this is his home now, and despite still being a bit surprised (and subtly hugging Hades back because Longing), Zagreus tells him straight up that he can’t, that he has to get home, especially with winter coming in a few months!

Dejected but not overly surprised, Hades simply nods in acceptance, but he still warns Zagreus that it’s no use trying to fight it; he’s stuck here, now and forever, so he may as well get comfortable and try getting along with him, because no one’s going anywhere anytime soon. Zagreus is horrified, but he nods nonetheless, unsure of what to say or do just yet.

Later that night, as Zagreus is struggling to sleep in this new, unfamiliar place, Achilles comes to him and apologizes about what’s happened, and although he can’t magically fix everything for him, he tells Zagreus that it actually is supposedly possible to escape; it’s just that no one’s ever done it before. Driven by his desire for freedom and the thought of reuniting with his mother, Zagreus tells Achilles that he’s going to find a way out, no matter the cost. Achilles congratulates him on his tenacity, but warns him that it won’t be easy. Still, he’s willing to help Zagreus as much as he can.

From then on, I imagine the game playing out very differently from the original, with a rather frazzled and scared Zagreus trying to get home to his mom and grandma, but with none of his training from Achilles in this AU, he has to rely on something his mother taught him; his connection with earth and all it’s inhabitants. Or, in his case, his connection with the spirits of animals (a cross of his dad and mom’s powers). That’s right, I’m making The Hades Game into a fucking Pokemon-ripoff, but still with some rouge-like elements mixed in (mostly with Zagreus not keeping his animals after runs).

Having royally fucked up in not stepping in sooner to protect Zagreus, the gods end up helping him out by sending down animals associated with them for the young god to tame for a run (I’ll come up with them later). They usually offer a selection to choose from, and from there Zagreus can build up a team and use it to try and escape the Underworld.

To replace weapons, I like to think he’d have “signature” animals that can help him out for any of his runs, specifically ones from Achilles, Poseidon, Zeus, Demeter (once he reaches the surface at least once), and eventually even Hades gives him one if they bond together enough ((yes, it’s Cerberus... kinda; it’s a puppy version of him, otherwise he’d be OP as fuck)). Zagreus’s signature animals can all be given names, and they keep certain skills that they pick up through enough experience battling in the Underworld for Zagreus.

As for story-line stuff, Zagreus ends up in a very fish out of water situation as he tries to get to know everyone in Hades’s house (he’s still our kindhearted Zag, after all, and he knows most of them aren’t to blame, not even really Than!) while also focusing on his goal to get home to his mom. Hades ends up being a lot nicer to him in this AU, perhaps overly so, as he’s trying to make his son like him more in order to make up for lost time (and fill the hole in his heart that Zag’s initial death as an infant and Persephone leaving with him created). It’s part of the reason he’s even letting Zagreus try to escape; he wants him to learn that it won’t work on his own terms (and maybe also scare the kid so bad that he comes running to him for comfort afterwards).

Also, I should really note that Zagreus is 100% a sweet country farm boy in this AU, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on with pretty much anything in the Underworld, much to everyone’s astonishment. For example:

Meg: Gods, it must be weird getting used to everything down here, huh? Sick of stepping in bat shit yet? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, and Dusa’s pretty good about cleaning it up to begin with. Zagreus: I mean, I guess? It’s not that different from chicken shit tbh. Meg: What the fuck is a chicken???

After that... yeah, I dunno. I’ll try playing Hades some more, see if I think up anything else that could be interesting, but for now, I hope at least someone ends up liking this dumb AU (if not, I’ll still like it... might even try my hand at drawing for it a bit tbh). Again, please check out the person who’s post/art I linked earlier in the post, ‘cus their art is really awesome and inspired me to include Demeter more in this AU!

[datawyrms]

Changed Hunt

For Phic Phight 2021! (not completely finished but AAAAfinshnowwww) lowkey Dannymay Day 2 Portal, as well

"That portal is awesome!" Sam says. "Would be so cool if it worked."

Danny goes down into the lab that night to try a few things—it doesn't quite go as he planned.(aka a no one knows au) (Dey’s prompt!)

Danny really wished Sam and Tucker had stayed a bit longer that day. With them around, maybe he wouldn’t have wandered in that portal like an idiot. In his own defense, how could he have known that little panel in there had been an on switch? Who’d put that inside a reality tearing portal device? Jack and Maddie Fenton, apparently. He was just lucky the thing hadn’t killed him! Or at least, managed to overdo it to the point he...survived somehow? He hadn’t really decided what that portal had done exactly. Waking in a pained heap, bathed in a haunting green glow from the now active portal was confusing enough. Looking up and seeing a stranger in the reflective panel nearby just made it worse. Of course he didn’t take it well, or know what to think. If he’d become a ghost, his parents would freak. Fixing their portal by turning into some...evil human hating creature probably wasn't in the plan. At least his terror somehow managed to get him to become human again. Heartbeat and everything. He hoped it had just been a weird one off, or he’d imagined it from trauma. Until he started falling through things. He died so hard  that he got his life back? The portal only managed to kill half of him? He was dead but ‘imitating humans’ was his specialty? Some human that just got to use his ‘soul’ or whatever to be a ghost early? Sam and Tucker might have had guesses- but he knew one thing right away. Whatever happened, he wasn’t all human anymore. He couldn’t tell them. What if they decided that was just too weird? What if they blamed themselves for not being there- thought they’d killed him? It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, he couldn’t let Mom and Dad find out, so he’d be trying to hide any of the new weirdness anyway. Might as well just always do it. Maybe the weird new abilities would just go away. They hadn’t. They just forced him to think about it to keep both feet on the ground. He could deal.

Until other ghosts started showing up. Ghosts that actually knew how to be ghosts, terrifying powers and all. Ghosts that seemed to know what he was. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when a green woman in a hairnet tapped him on the shoulder and asked who ‘changed the menu’. There was a lot of screaming and running away at that, considering she was floating and well. Obviously some sort of dead person. Freaky Fenton attracts freaky ghosts. Of course. She didn’t buy his claim of not knowing why the menu wasn’t exactly the same as fifty years ago (why would he? That’s a lot of years!) and thought setting ovens on fire and throwing them at him was a fair answer! So apparently Mom and Dad were totally right about ghosts being completely terrifying monsters that he should run away from very quickly. Which he did. He only ran into two walls he meant to go through, even. Just more reasons to never, ever tell anyone he might be like that crazed ghost lady. Mom and Dad proving their inventions actually did work sometimes was just icing on the ‘i’m so screwed’ cake. Ghosts exist, they fought one, and the school got shuttered for a week from excessive damage via flying appliance. Fun.

It was dumb to pretend that was a one off thing. It was stupid to think he could keep hiding what happened that day. Even if it felt safer, even if he just wanted to keep denying the portal was open so she could keep pretending it hadn’t done anything to him. Maybe if someone knew, he wouldn’t be hopelessly trapped by a huge glowing robot. Running didn’t work on this one like it did the older ghost lady. He tried, he really did, but the self proclaimed hunter kept tracking him down. Even when he transformed into the strange ghost version of himself he failed to dissuade the robot. Punching metal still hurt as a ghost, and so did getting pelted with little missiles. So much for intangibility being an advantage.

“You’re lucky that you’re a rare creature, whelp. Otherwise I’d be disappointed by how little effort hunting you took.”

Great, flame head thought he was a disappointing freak. More pressing was the net the ghost had shot at him that he couldn’t struggle free of. Even drawing on his weird ghost side wouldn’t let him phase through it. “Pretty sure you can’t hunt endangered species!” He redoubled his effort as the ghost picked up the net, trying to trick himself that his swinging was making him feel ill, not the terror of being carried off by some monster that came through the portal just to hunt him down.

“Hah! If I didn’t take you ghost child, someone else would simply end you.” The blank green eyes stared into his own as the machine pulled him up higher. “You should be grateful to be part of my collection.”

Danny gulped, unsure if he should keep his attention on his captor or the fact they were getting closer to the swirling portal. “How about no thanks? Since you’re such a good samaritan and all. You can just let me go and forget all about uh...this.” Why couldn’t he just squeeze out of the net, or make the rest of him all weird like when his legs decided to vanish sometimes? Pulling with his gloved hands wasn’t working, and the glow just grew  brighter as the lump in his throat got thicker. “Please? You already said I was weak, if you let me go I’ll be stronger next time!” Okay, it was a stupid plea but he’d try anything right now to not get dragged to some ghost world.

“I’m not a catch and release sort of hunter.” The ghost chuckled as his prey shrank back with the denial.

“How can you be the ‘Greatest’ hunter if you just go after kids, huh?” Begging wasn’t working, so maybe getting him angry? He couldn’t go through there, what if being on the other side made him more like this thing, or the other weird green monsters? “More like lamest hunter.”

“Oh you’ll see the sort of creatures I normally hunt, ghost child. Once you join them.” Skulker shook the net hard, rattling what little bravado Danny had managed to gather up right back out of him.

So much for that hope. “This has got to be a mistake, just let me go!” The ghost didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes when the mechanical monster fired up a jetpack and flew through that portal. It wasn’t as cold as he feared it would be, it wasn’t like the void of space. Just as green as the portal, still a swirling background to everything. He swore he saw faces and doors, but couldn’t keep looking for long. The combined movement of being dragged along with the spinning energy was stomach churning enough, and he had to deal with the fact he didn’t know anything about this place. Even if this ghost decided to let him go, where would he go? Was there even anything to navigate with? He certainly didn’t see anything useful like stars. Would all this green stuff just soak into him and make him not want to find home? Nothing here made sense! It was easier to curl up instead of struggling with the net to stretch out, and the stupid ghost couldn’t see how the tears welled in his eyes as he struggled not to cry.

He should have been braver, should have tried to watch more, but it’d been too much. The crunch of metal against stone jarred him out of his silent self berating, just to be even more confused. He was on an island? That just floated, because islands did that here. Islands that had forests on them, that grew out of what looked like rock. Sure, okay. At least it was a bit of a distraction from the fact he was trapped by some evil robot in a completely different reality! Well. It had been. Seeing the fact the ghost lived in some weird stone skull jutting out of a mountain made him snort despite himself.

“You said my puns were bad, and you live in that thing?” He was pretty sure the green mohawk monster was Skull-something anyway. Mostly tuned it out after he kept repeating the ‘greatest hunter’ bit. “Ghost Zone’s Greatest Halloween Decoration’s a more fitting title.”

“For a terrified whelp, you are very chatty.”

“I think I looped around from terrified when I saw how doomed I am.” He was just joking. Totally. He wasn’t goofing around to try and fend off the engulfing panic of never getting home, nope. Absolutely not. He tried to pay attention to the strange ‘skull mountain house thing’, but the fact it reminded him more like a zoo inside wasn’t helping. Massive, monstrous glowing ghosts leering out and snapping as they passed, smaller sorts that didn’t even look up and several empty cages stained green was not calming his nerves. He couldn’t even describe some ghosts, being such a confusing jumble of parts that didn’t remind him of anything. All he could tell was robo-hunter probably didn’t have any willing guests. Unwilling guests that looked far, far more powerful than anything he could dream of trying. He was so, so doomed. To the point that being tossed roughly in a similar cage was almost a relief so he wasn’t right beside the ghost anymore.

First task was struggling free of the no longer glowing net (deactivated somehow? weird.) which wasn’t too hard, but just left him in his freaky ghost form, in a cage, in the middle of who knew where. The Ghost Zone, that’s what they kept calling it. Not Earth. Fantastic! That’s enough to get a C-, but not enough to get him out of this cage. Reaching through the bars was out, the unexpected shock had him rubbing his hand and grumbling to how having some invisible field between the bars was just unfair. At least let him see it before hurting him more. Now what? Grasping that feeling that let him walk through walls wasn’t letting him through the cage floor, just like how the net wouldn’t let him out.  Floating just reminded him of getting dragged here. So that was it. Why did he have to get stupid dying powers? They didn’t even do anything useful!

Stressing out and not finding a way out was an exhausting way to spend a few hours. He kept thinking of new problems, like he didn’t have enough already. When the robot wandered past, he almost grabbed the bars to get closer. “Hey! Screw head!”

The ghost actually looked at him, the stern face looking more confused than anything.

“Yeah you! You know I’m gonna like, starve to death in here, right?” Danny had no idea how he was managing to say something he was very terrified of coming true like it was a joke. “Kind of a waste, don’t ya think?”

“You will be fine, ghost child. Your pleas for freedom won’t fool me.”

“Wanna bet? Maybe we’re so rare because we all starve to death in this dumb ghost world or whatever.” That and there probably weren’t too many people dumb enough to get shocked to...sort of death. “That and like, you’re some freaky machine man, you probably don’t know anything about eating to start with.”

Skulker kept staring at him, as if doing that would suddenly reveal all his secrets. “Well I prefer live specimens, but I suppose I could always do with another rug.”

Oh gross! “Seriously? Do I look like rug material to you?”

“Wall art?”

Yup, he was gagging now. The very idea a ghost would want to do that just made his spine want to shake right out of him with disgust. “I’d be way out of place, all of the other ghosts here look like animals! You’ll just gross all your hunter buddies out.” Maybe if he pretended to be some know it all like Jazz the ghost would...reconsider making him into wall art? Uurk. What was his life that he even needed to think that?

At least that got the metal monster pondering, massive hand scratching at his chin. “I do wonder if your pelt would only show half of your nature.”

“How about we don’t test that and say we did.” He’d seen some of the knives on the way in and did not want any of them near him thank you very much. Not that he had much of a choice- oh man he really, really did not want to learn why Sam hated the fur industry this way. “Pretty sure I’d just die. More. Or something.”

“Oh, but you’ve seen the other pelts on the way in. They’ve still got enough of a spark to not melt to nothing ghost child. I’m not that sloppy.”

Oh so he could be barely aware wall art. Even better!  What would he do, skin him alive or just crush him? Both? “Humans don’t melt.” It was all he could think of blathering out. Don’t think about what the terrifying ghost guy can do Fenton, just don’t.

“True...unfortunately I don’t have another subject to test on.”

Score one for being a unique sort of freaky ghost kid. Maybe. “Soooo how about you just bring me back and rethink the whole uh. Hunting me thing.”

That just got Skulker laughing. “Not a chance whelp.”

“I’m not a whelp! I don’t even fit in with all your monster-things!” It had annoyed him, really. The other ghosts didn’t really...talk? “I’m not some animal!” 

More chuckling, as if amused by a puppy chasing its tail. “Of course you are, with that stench of the human world on you.”

“You think I smell. With what nose, metalhead?”

“None of your business. Not to fear, any ghost here can tell you’re a hybrid. That human body you insist on wearing can be felt even when you’re in a superior form.”

Oh, was this a ghosts thinking humans were animals thing? Or was this a ghosts are kinda racist to different ghosts thing. Was there a difference? He probably should have paid more attention in civics. “Yeah well that ‘human body’ needs food.” He wasn’t even going to touch the idea that he was ‘wearing’ his own body, eeeeugh.

“I’ll figure out a solution to your hybrid failings, child. I won’t let a prize go that easily.”

Greeeeeeat.

[itsallmightbitch]

Covert Ops For Dummies

Possibly Part 1? Depends on the interest in a Part 2. I curse my best friend for a thousand years for making me watch this show and basically facilitating a brand spanking new addiction. I fucking love this skinny scarecrow man.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Nothing really. Smut abounds. Toshi is insecure as fuck about his body. That’s about it.

Word Count: 8000+ (I um... I might have gotten carried away...)

Summary: You and All Might go undercover, only to wind up stuck in a coat closet for most of the mission. Toshinori is insecure and you’re horny as all get out (and determined to make him see what you do when you look at him).

*gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate for this story?!?!???!!

-

Covert ops with a man who quite frankly defied the laws of stealth, was going exactly the way you’d thought it would. Go you. You were practically fucking psychic.

 Not that you were subtly bragging to yourself about being right but… well.

 You were.

 When you’d been paired with him by an oddly amused Aizawa earlier, you hadn’t thought much of it. You spent most of your time together anyway, so why not work while you were at it? It was a simple job. Get in, get out. Bust down some doors, take some names, kick some ass-

 “What the fuck do you mean, undercover!? How is this-” you gestured frantically at All Might, perched precariously on a nearby desk- “In any way, going to go under anything!?”

 The man in question laughed and the desk creaked worryingly as it shook along with him.

 “You worry too much! I can be stealthy when I want to be, kid!” his voice boomed and the glass of the window rattled in it’s frame from the sheer strength of it.

 You levelled a look at him, unsure if he was joking or not.

 Standing across from you both, arms crossed and a sleeping bag bunched around his waist- was the mastermind of this future fuck up.

 “You two won’t need to be stealthy,” Aizawa explained, his tired eyes sparkling with amusement at your absolutely horrified expression. Neither you nor All Might were built for sneaking through windows after all. “We know it’s not exactly your… strong point,” he said, clearing his throat and then and there, in that little classroom in UA, you learned that Shouta Aizawa actually did have a goddamn sense of humour.

 Go figure that it was at your expense.

 “You two get to be the diversion.”

 Your eyes went wide and one twitched.

 “Oh God, how is that better!?”

Everything had gone about as well as could be expected with Mr. Save the Day on your team. Although you, very begrudgingly, had to hand it to him. He did know how to keep a crowd’s attention when he needed to- and if it had been mildly arousing watching him make your suspects cower in fear at the same time then well, that was your business.

 All Might and the absolutely appalling mass of muscles that made up his left arm, shifted a little and jostled you into a nearby pile of coats. This resulted in a mouthful of faux fur and a coat hanger in your spleen. Your feet dangled off of the ground, your body suspended against the wall by the sheer size of him.

 You grunted in pain, indignant, then elbowed him hard in retaliation.

 “Sorry!” he said and now your elbow was aching as well as your spleen. It was like hitting a boulder.

 On top of the lack of room to breathe, the heat was almost unbearable. He was like a walking, talking space heater and normally you wouldn’t mind. Really. But being crammed into such tight quarters with zero warning was already making your head spin and the heat wasn’t helping matters.

 Your mind drifted without your permission.

 It wasn’t the way you’d ever imagined being pinned down by him but- oh, for fuck sake don’t think about that now.

 You willed yourself to behave, groaning out loud.

 He took your noise of frustration in a different way.

 “I know it’s not an ideal situation but I’m sure we can turn this around,” he beamed at you optimistically but since you couldn’t move your arms particularly well, you couldn’t flip him off. He ignored your lack of response and sullen silence, instead craning his neck forward towards the door. He had to shimmy a little and brought you along with him- stuck to his side as you were.

 Your wings sagged uselessly behind you, squished into a corner that they had no business being in.

 Toshinori squinted out of the spaces between the slats on the wooden door as if he could bend light itself and see around fucking corners. You bit your tongue.

 Knowing him, he probably could.

 He shifted again, without much thought. You, on the other hand, almost died. Thick fingers brushed over your thigh as he moved his hand and all of the blood in your body rushed in two different directions. One half reddened your cheeks and the other half slammed home between your legs and throbbed deliciously.

 Jesus. If either of you shifted in just the right way-

 He must have realized because his fingers snapped away as he made a fist suddenly, eyes darting everywhere but at your face. You felt his breath stutter in his chest and he cleared his throat and moved his hand as far away as he could in such tight quarters.You didn’t know whether to curse him for being such a gentleman or not.

 “It’s a little cramped in here, huh?”

 “You know, I hadn’t noticed.”

 Yes. When in doubt, default to sarcasm. That always ended well. But he was unaffected and just fucking chuckled instead, all throaty and low so that he didn’t alert any of the guards outside.

 Your ovaries screeched. One fainted.

 Half the words you’d been about to say turned into pathetic sounds instead so you simply swallowed them back again.

 You needed to put a bit of distance between you before you simply climbed around him and wrapped your legs around his waist for a place to sit. Hissing, you shifted from side to side, wings twitching helplessly in the cramped space. If you could roll your shoulders in just the right way-

 “Are you alright?” he whispered, looking alarmed at your sudden frantic movements. You grunted out a yes as you tried to find a way to move your arms properly. He didn’t seem convinced.

 “I’m trying to put my wings away before we both suffocate.”

 “Oh.”

 It took a bit of concentration to ignore the feeling of being practically plastered to his side, but eventually, your wings disappeared with a little whoosh of air and you dropped slightly further towards the ground without their friction on the walls holding you up.

 The relief was real. At least two of your limbs could now breathe again- even if the rest were still stuck in this closet. The extra wiggle room was a gift from God as you inhaled actual air. As a bonus, you could now finally turn your scathing gaze on Toshinori.

 Bright blue met your eyes and he blinked owlishly back at your expectant ones.

 “Is that better?”

 “Toshi,” you said, as patiently as possible even though he was being terribly dense. “You could help, you know.”

 He paused for a moment- then wiggled as far away as he could. Which by your estimation was about three millimetres. You couldn’t even face palm as your hands were still stuck to your sides.

 “Jesus- Shrink down, you big oaf! Your muscles are taking up precious oxygen!”

 This closet was definitely not built to contain over five hundred pounds of thick ass muscle. His head was even brushing the ceiling. Eyes comically wide, he looked down at himself like he was actually surprised that it hadn’t crossed his mind to do so already.

 He was so not adorable. Not even a little bit.

 “Oh right.”

 Suddenly you had a face full of smoke instead of muscle and you dropped to the floor without warning. You almost fell against the door but you caught yourself at the last second with your hand on the wall beside it.

 Your body sighed in relief at the sudden space and you inhaled dramatically, stretching your arms out, grateful for the blood flow to your extremities. At least now you wouldn’t lose a hand.

 A short, wheezy cough from the other side of the closet had you wafting the smoke away, frantically trying to send it towards the little vent instead of the door. The last thing you needed was someone thinking the place was on fire.

 After so many months of trailing around after All Might, it was now far less jarring to see him going from one extreme to the other. From the hulking, muscular hero you’d been plastered against moments before, to the walking scarecrow who was now silhouetted in a cloud of smoke.

 So when the room finally cleared and left just Toshinori in all of his skinny, hapless glory, you didn’t even think twice about it. You were far more concerned with your ability to finally move your arms again.

 The non-reaction was a vast improvement from the stream of expletives you’d let out the first time you’d seen the transformation. It barely even registered as a difference these days. He was still Toshinori. A little clueless, always earnestly sweet and unfairly invading all of your sexual fantasies.

 The norm.

 But still, even now, those sharp eyes of his watched your expression closely.

 For what, you weren’t entirely sure but he mustn’t have found whatever he was searching for because he suddenly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with one big hand.

 “Sorry kid. Must be getting forgetful in my old age,” he said and flashed you a sheepish grin. His hero outfit hung on him, at least seven times too big for his skinny frame and it would have looked comical on anyone else. Not him though. The damn thing still suited him.

 You ignored the traitorous, evil thundering of your heart in your chest.

 Fuck.

 How could he be so impossibly sexy without even realizing it? You swiftly turned away to stare out of the slats like he had done earlier, pretending not to smile. Maybe he did realize it but just had no idea of the effect it had on you. It didn’t even make sense, when you actually sat down and thought about it. Which you had done, many, many times.

 He was older than you.

 An out and out good guy with a saviour complex.

 Skinny, almost worryingly thin- in this form anyway.

 On paper, he wasn’t your type. Not even a little bit. But fuck if he didn’t elicit a sinful ache between your legs whenever he was around. He made you disgustingly flustered, even if he was doing something as simple as handing you a stack of papers to grade.

 And now you were stuck in the worlds smallest coat closet with him.

 If Aizawa was wrong about this fundraiser then you were going to choke him to death with his own scarf.

 You could feel Toshinori’s presence behind you, as he silently tried to adjust his uniform to make it fit a little better.

 Until you’d followed him up the stairs earlier, it hadn’t been going as badly as you’d thought. He was a decent actor, given the circumstances and it might have had something to do with keeping up a ruse as big as his for so long.

 You’d been given the low down that morning. Big shot money man- who had built his fortune on the back of the Number One hero’s smiling face. It wasn’t the sort of thing that either of you would usually deal with but… this one seemed to have a personal ring to it. Cue his hero outfit and a fuck ton of screaming fans.

 All Might’s fans of course- not yours.

 You’d pulled up at the front gates of the lavish eight bedroom house, just outside the suburbs- and watched with absolute glee as Lanius Snow (con man, ringleader and all around asshole) looked like he was about to have a heart attack out of sheer fright.

 But Toshi played dumb as instructed, the atmosphere had relaxed- and all the attention had turned to the guest of honour and away from any potential heroes who may or may not have been sneaking around upstairs. Even the security that had been dotted around were fawning over All Might like school children, asking for autographs and pictures and all around ignoring their posts.

 You may or may not have nudged a few of the more eager ladies out of the way once or twice as well.

 Totally not your fault in a bustling crowd like that.

 All Might had taken the attention in his stride. You had slunk behind him after the first ten minutes, happy to be out of sight and out of mind.

 The evening had progressed and you knew that Snow was becoming more and more agitated by the second, talking frantically into an earpiece whenever he thought he was out of sight. None of the guards had earpieces and it was clear that the security down in the main hall was only the tip of the iceberg.

 Then everything had escalated when All Might had insisted on being his usual heroic self and had point blank refused to leave the hard work to just Eraserhead. Even when you reminded him that the police were on standby around the corner, it hadn’t deterred him in the slightest.

 “Toshi! We’re supposed to be distracting the guests! Eraserhead told us heroics weren’t necessary, remember!?”

 You had tugged at his suit in vain as he’d marched up the stairs, checking for guards as covertly as a seven foot mountain of a man could.

 “But you also heard Snow earlier,” he’d murmured. “Extra security? Drones? Eraserhead didn’t mention any of that in the briefing earlier. Which means he might be in over his head. It won’t hurt to check on him.”

 And so he’d surged onward with you trailing unhappily behind him, unable to stop him and bound to have his back.

 You hadn’t even been able to contemplate what was happening when a hand had yanked you sideways moments later and you were suddenly in the dark, pressed against All Might like you were about to become very familiar with him.

 A flutter of excitement in your stomach had made you clench your thighs together, thinking that maybe, just maybe, ‘checking on Aizawa’ had just been code for ‘fucking you in a closet’. You wished. As much as you might have enjoyed it, Toshinori was nothing if not a gentleman. He never would have dreamed of doing something so crass.

 The big guy got flustered if you just touched his arm. He’d probably flat out faint if you offered to suck his dick.

 Another security detail walked past, laughing between themselves and in the narrow sliver of space you could see out of, a glint of metal told you that these men were all heavily armed.

 Charity fundraiser your ass.

 “It’s a fundraiser for children with disabilities. The people who organised it have promised a ‘once in a lifetime opportunity’ for these children to meet All Might if enough money is raised,” Aizawa had explained, his voice it’s usual monotone but his eyes flashing with unusual emotion.

 You had turned to Toshinori curiously, head cocked and eyebrows raised at his sour expression.

 “Let me guess. You’ve never even heard of such a thing?”

 He shook his head and you fumed, fists clenching.

 “Bastards.”

 “Tonight is supposed to be for those kids and we’re stuck in a closet being useless. They’re using your big, dumb, friendly face to fill their own pockets and I’m not even allowed to punch the mastermind in the dick,” you grunted, pushing away from the wall, suddenly angry at how useless you were currently being.

And at the gall these people had.

 Taking the God damn Symbol of Peace and twisting it into something vile for their own gain. You wondered how long it had been going on. Weeks? Months? By the look of this lavish house, you’d bet years. So many children’s dreams crushed because they thought that they hadn’t won some phoney competition. Parents wondering if perhaps they had only donated more, given more that they didn’t even have to give...

 In your sudden angry outburst, you didn’t watch your steps and stumbled over a pair of shoes that you’d kicked out of the way earlier. Toshinori’s big, warm hand on your arm steadied you. Your fingers wrapped around his skinny wrist and you breathed out, using your grip on him to pull yourself closer.

 For a guy who looked like a strong wind would blow him over- he was certainly sturdy. He barely moved, despite your tugging.

 “I know,” he said solemnly and his voice was hard in a way that he just couldn’t achieve when he was All Might. “I detest the thought of the hero I try to be, being used as a front for crime. The thought of disappointing those children-”

 He looked away from you then, past your shoulder to the door. You squeezed his wrist, warm skin under your palm making your heart stutter in your chest. 

“So, I couldn’t just sit still and smile for those people down there… I had to do something proactive. Do you understand, kid?” he asked and tilted his head to the side, looking almost imploring. He needed you to understand why he’d pushed on when you told him to stop. Just like he always did.

 You supposed you understood, just a little.

 You nodded, lips twitching.

 “Then…” he said, a sly grin stretching over his face. “Does that mean you’re not angry at my ‘big, dumb, friendly face’?”

 Biting back a laugh, you let go of his wrist and pushed his head to the side playfully. All seven feet of him swayed gently when you did, like bamboo in the wind, as he rolled on the balls of his feet. You must have been a little too close for comfort because you caught the tinge of pink in his cheeks even in the dim light coming from the door.

 “I suppose you are a hard man to stay angry with,” you teased and patted his gaunt cheek affectionately. Standing on your tiptoes, you brought your face closer to his, ignoring your usual carefully observed boundaries. “But don’t think you can get away with pulling me into closets in the future, Toshi. You have to at least take a girl to dinner first.”

 You made sure he saw when your gaze dropped to his lips and you noted his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed- hard.

 Bringing your gaze back up, you didn’t even have time to wonder where your sudden bravery had come from because your eyes locked with his shockingly blue ones- the same eyes that often invaded your fantasies at night.

 Something heated and electric shocked your system and all of your inhibitions flew out of the window, waving their panties as they went.

 Your head swam, excitement causing a rush of adrenaline.

 “So-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to imply anything!” he almost squeaked, his voice reaching an octave you didn’t think it even could and you smiled up at his red face with a wolfish grin. His body was rigid, like you were about to murder him and it did something funny to your stomach thinking about just how adorably nervous he was from just a little flirting.

 It often confused you.

 Men and women fell at his feet all the time. All he had to do was step outside and he had phone numbers and offers of ‘coffee’ coming out of his ears. Usually, he took it all in his stride. A few winks here and there, oozing confidence and a hearty laugh while giving them a gentle brush off. It was like night and day compared to the man in front of you.

 As of right now, he was rubbing his arm and trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on his feet.

 Now, you were no fool and you certainly weren’t a liar. Especially not to yourself.

 You couldn’t deny that when he was all buff and muscular, he could make your pussy throb with pleasure with just a look. He didn’t even have to be in the same bloody room as you. All you had to do was happen across a picture of him and you could be ready to go in under fifteen seconds- ten on a particularly good day.

 Not that you’d ever tell him that. With his stupid grin and the way he looked like he could snap you in half with his hands. The way he towered over you and the way you just knew that he was packing some serious heat.

 Oof.

 You pulled in a shaky breath, swallowing back the drool that threatened to spill over.

 Thank fuck it was dark in here.

 Yet, with all that being said, there was something about him when he was just his regular, skinny self. All sharp angles and rough edges- with his hair a constant mess no matter what he did to it. Toshinori with his sad smile and electric eyes, shoulders sloped under the weight of the whole fucking world. You wanted to share some of that burden sometimes. Make him smile again, like he should be able to.

 If you wanted to do that by riding him into the ground then so be it. Who were you to question your own methods?

 His hands would still look phenomenal wrapped around your thighs, you decided. He still towered over you and damn, you couldn’t decide which version you liked more sometimes.

Choices, choices. You were practically like a kid in a candy store.

 “Maybe I like it when you imply things,” you said, voice nothing more than a purr. Jesus, where had that come from? Oh well. You were on a roll now. Might as well see where this took you-

 “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said suddenly, expression stormy and his sad voice like a shock to your system.

 Your brain screeched to a halt, brakes on as you tried and failed to fit his tone into the situation you’d thought was building.

 “Um, do what?” you asked stupidly.

 Toshi’s expression hardened, his eyes not meeting yours any more and trained instead on a loose thread that he was tugging out of his pants. The soft frown turned into a scowl and he looked as though he wanted to simply barge past you and back into the hallway- anything to get out of the situation.

 But guards were still patrolling and you certainly didn’t want to be caught trespassing so it was a no go.

 You hadn’t thought that he would be bothered by your flirtatious banter- and you’d felt braver here in the dim light when it was just the two of you. Had you spooked him that much?

 It wasn’t like you hadn’t flirted with him before. In fact, it was pretty much becoming your favourite past time. Stroking a hand over his muscular arm. Standing way, way too close to him. Touching him in public where you knew he wouldn’t be able to escape and would have to stand there, red faced and blushing like crazy.

 “Pretend,” he murmured sullenly, fidgeting harder as he fought the urge to flee from the situation.

 His expression was almost pained, like this was genuinely hurting him. You, on the other hand, still didn’t have a clue what was going on. What were you pretending about? Your brain, which had been switched to ‘horny’ mode for the last few minutes, tried furiously to gain some traction.

 “Toshi, I don’t understand. Pretend to what? Explain it to me like I’m an idiot.”

 He scratched his forearm roughly, shrinking in on himself as much as a seven foot tall man could. You had a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. He took a long, shaky breath. In. Then out. Like he was readying himself for a battle that you didn’t even know was coming.

 “You don’t have to pretend that you- ya know… find me attractive. Like… like this,” he said, his voice trailing off until it was so soft that anyone else might have struggled to hear him. Hell, even you had trouble- with only the sound of your thundering heart in your ears and of the world crashing down around you.

 Your throat went unbelievably dry and you gaped helplessly. How did you even respond to something like that? It took a long moment of uneasy silence before you managed to find your voice again.

 “But Toshi… I flirt with you all the time,” you managed to say, your brow creased. If it was possible, he shrank away even more, like you were shouting and not whispering. He hid his eyes behind his hair, either too cowardly or too embarrassed to meet your gaze and then shrugged, not answering.

 But his body language told you everything you needed to know.

 “You flirt with All Might,” he whispered.

 Oh. Oh!

 Holy fucking shit, you’d never realized it before. Not to be self deprecating but you were one dumb motherfucker. You’d always had so much fun making him blush when he was All Might. Breaking down that hero visage to remind yourself that he was still him under all that bravado. You’d never felt the need to do it when he was smaller.

 When he was Toshinori… everything he did made your idiot heart skip a beat.

 “Toshi… Look, I’m not going to lie to you, okay?” you said and then waited until he looked up before continuing, refusing to have this conversation with the top of his stupid head. “I find you really, really attractive when you’re All Might. I can’t deny it.”

 You gave a dumb, embarrassed laugh because hell, you’d never thought you’d be admitting your attraction somewhere like this.

 That seemed to be what he’d been waiting for, though.

 He openly flinched, head twisting to one side as if you’d punched him. His jaw set, teeth gritted and that sad expression made your stomach twist painfully. Was this what he’d been afraid of the whole time? Why he always searched your expression every time he changed from one form to the other?

 “I can change back, if you like,” he offered, in quite possibly the saddest voice ever. You went pale- practically felt the blood leaving your face. What had this man even been through that he thought no-one would want him the way he was? That they would only want the muscle bound hero that smiled all the time? You could have kicked yourself for feeding the dark part of him that thought like that.

 Did he honestly think that you would only shower him with affection when he changed back? That he was only worth something when he had fucking muscles?

 A cluster of emotions welled up inside you without warning and with a huff, you promptly slapped him upside the head.

 Hard.

 “Ow!” he yelped, forgetting himself and where he was for a moment. “What was that for!?”

 Suddenly, he was the confused one- staring down the barrel of your anger with wide eyes.

 “Because you’re being an idiot, Toshinori!” you hissed softly. “Yeah, I want to fuck you when you’re all big and muscular. Just like every other person on the planet who has eyes.” The use of the words ‘I want to fuck you’ seemed to catch his attention more than the rest of the sentence but you let his blush and tense posture slide because he was only human, after all. “It just so happens that I also want to fuck you when you’re- well.”

You gestured to him from head to toe. 

“You. You moron.”

 Red faced and annoyed, you crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your bottom lip. How could you possibly make it any clearer to him?

 The silence was thick in the little coat closet, your words still ringing in the air.

 “Um… really? You’re not just saying that?” he asked, his voice still small but with something hopeful tucked away in the back. Your anger softened.

 “You’re more to me than just your body, Toshi” you said after a long moment. “I like you.”

 “But that first time, when I changed- I thought-” he argued, like he was trying to convince you that you didn’t actually find him attractive.

 “That first time, was the only time I’ve ever reacted. And I reacted because I was surprised. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you shook your head, a smile pulling at your lips. “I don’t flirt much with you when you’re like this because I’m not vying for your time like I have to when you’re All Might. It’s just you and me… like this. And I like it that way. I don’t need to make you blush to get your attention,” you shrugged, slinking closer to him.

 He shut his dumb mouth then and while he was still a little skittish, he didn’t take a step back when you invaded his personal space. Instead, he let you snake your way close enough to him so you could lay a hand on his chest- eyes trailing over his sharp features and resting on those big sad eyes.

 “I wasn’t turned on when I was pressed against All Might,” you murmured and he sucked in an uneven breath, his fingers twitching at his sides and his lanky body curving towards yours. Without much thought behind the process of what you were doing, you laced your fingers through his and tugged his hand to your body.

 The first shock of him touching you was electric and you shivered- guiding his hand down, over your breasts and then across your stomach until you met the waistband of your pants. Nuzzling his jaw, you smiled when he returned the gesture and rubbed his cheek across the top of your head. 

His breathing was fast, heavy and you might have worried about him over exerting himself but he seemed fine for now, so you let him enjoy the moment.

You could take a wild guess and say this was the most action he’d had for a while. Not that you were faring any better. Your brain still hadn’t caught up with whatever the fuck your hands were doing.

 Fingers still tangled with his, both of your breaths caught when you slid his palm underneath the denim and then down further- under the elastic of your panties. You let him go on his own then, having given him enough encouragement by now. Besides, you were busy trying not to pass out, lightheaded and giddy as you were.

 He made a strangled noise, twisting his head down so that his forehead was pressed against yours and he could look at your face like you were personally gifting him the crown jewels.

 He murmured your name, questioningly.

 “Touch me?” you replied, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice because the hand that you’d often fantasized about was now cupped over your aching pussy, pressing lightly like he was afraid that he was going too far- even though you’d given him the clearest ‘GO’ sign you possibly could. “Please.”

 “Okay,” he said, voice wracked with arousal and despite the bagginess of his clothes, when you chanced a glance downwards you could see his erection outlined- eagerly way ahead of his brain. “Okay,” he choked out again, nerves making his whole body tremble.

 One long, rough finger, finally slipped between the lips of your pussy and you drew in a sharp breath. Your hands came up to grip his biceps and the sinful groan he let out caused another rush of arousal to seep out of you. He found you soaking and hot and without needing prompted further, he added another finger to rest inside- barely nudging your clit but causing enough friction to make you whine needily.

 “That’s what you do to me. Not your muscles. Not your quirk,” you said, breathless, as his other arm snaked around your back. His fingers splayed wide between your shoulder blades. “Not your fame. Just you.”

 “Fuck,” he moaned pathetically and without warning, he was moving. Your pants were off and your back was against the wall, legs wrapped around his slim hips before you had a moment to draw in breath. He pushed upwards and pressed his middle finger all the way inside you. You almost saw stars, shivering weakly against him and you opened your legs further to give him more space. With the added fact that you’d never heard him swear before, you were practically melting in his arms- your nails biting little crescents into his skin through the material of his suit.

 Your hips bucked, wanting more and so you voiced your desire softly.

 “More Toshi,” you urged, breath coming in pants. He nodded. He pulled his finger out and you felt another teasing your entrance before he pushed back in, stretching wider the second time. Then again. And again. And-

 “Hnng,” you managed.

 You muffled the next pleased sound that escaped you against his neck, then pressed a kiss to the curve that led to his shoulder.

 Honestly, you should have been ashamed at the state you were in with just a few tentative pumps of his fingers but that combined with his proximity and your long time crush was almost too much. His cheeks were still pink, his mouth open as he rocked his palm against you and you found yourself on the brink of an orgasm far too quickly.

 You nuzzled him, your nose brushing against his and his hot breath ghosting over your lips. The noises you were making were obscene, coupled with the soft wet sounds of his fingers sliding inside of you on repeat.

 He sought out your gaze and held it, his hand bunching up your shirt at the back as he slipped it under. The skin on skin contact was divine.

 The heel of his palm pressed upwards, sliding against your clit and you jerked hard in his embrace, inhaling a harsh breath as your fingers tightened their grip on him.

 He stopped all motion immediately and you pulled back from where you’d been laying sloppy, open mouthed kisses on his jaw.

 “Toshi?” you said, blearily, wondering why the pleasure had come to such an abrupt halt.

 “Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern in his voice.

 “What? No!” You shook your head from side to side almost comically. “No, no, no. Keep going,” you urged and he nodded, swallowing thickly. The delicious motions of his hand continued then, rocking back and forward over your swollen clit and dipping his fingers deep inside- hitting places your smaller hands could never dream of reaching.

 “So good,” you purred, nearly delirious with lust. You dipped your hand down and palmed his cock through his pants and he grunted obscenely in your ear, breath scorching. His thighs twitched as you traced the length of him- impressive and hard under your fingers. “I always knew you’d be packing,” you laughed, drunk on the atmosphere in your own personal bubble.

 You felt him smile, felt his shoulders shake lightly and your heart soared.

 There he was.

 “Kiss me?” you asked, all wanton and breathy. Here you were already hitting third base and you hadn’t even kissed him yet. He obliged, albeit tentatively at first. His lips found yours, warm and surprisingly soft. You tangled a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth on yours and rocking your hips lazily in pursuit of your orgasm.

 He bucked helplessly against your hand when you squeezed and when he groaned into your mouth, it gave you the perfect opening to slip your tongue in to meet his.

 You kissed him long and deep, until he hit a sweet spot and you had to pull away to breathe hard. You were so close. So, so close…

 “I’m gonna come,” you said, before cupping his face so you could simply revel in his expression as you did.

 “You are?” he asked, gaze lingering on your well kissed lips as he tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. Oh, you would definitely have to do something about all that self doubt in the near future- but as of right now you just flashed him a wicked smile and clenched your muscles around his fingers.

 All the while, the knot of tension in your stomach balled tighter and tighter.

 “Oh yeah, Toshi,” was the only response you could actually form because he suddenly sped up his movements, rocking his hand back and forth until you were just- right- there.

 The cry of his name was choked in your throat and your legs trembled with the effort of staying around his hips- although he had the foresight to wrap his free hand around one of your thighs to keep you up. Your muscles fluttered frantically around his fingers and through the wild haze of your orgasm you could only anticipate what it would feel like with his cock inside you instead.

 The thought sent another spasm through you and you shook softly, holding onto him for dear life.

 There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was of you trying to get your breathing back to normal.

 Gently, Toshi pulled his hand away- leaving you feeling dreadfully empty, his nose tracing your cheek as you leaned into him. Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt and honestly, all you wanted to do was curl up against him for the next twenty four hours and reassure him that you’d just had the time of your life.

 But, you were still in a closet and he was still hard, so instead, you tugged his hand to your mouth and wrapped your lips around the fingers that had just been inside you.

 Keeping your eyes locked with his, you silently revelled in the sheer embarrassed arousal on his face. You ran your tongue between his fingers, and his eyes grew heavy, lips parted and his breath hitching.

Reaching between you, despite the awkward angle, you found his cock straining eagerly against his outfit. The moment you ran your fingertips along the length of him and stopped at his head, he growled low and long in his chest and buried his face into the curve of your neck. 

The fingers of his free hand dug into your ass as he held you aloft- backing away a little to give you more room while you refused to release his other hand from your mouth.

You sighed around his fingers, already imagining that they were his cock instead and he must have been imagining it too- either that or he was far more pent up than he’d ever let you know. You only had to suck softly and palm his cock a few more times before he was shuddering against you, panting and groaning as he came.

 You finally let him go with a wet pop, letting him shake and spasm in your arms while you laid soft, unassuming kisses to the side of his head and muttered sweet things in his ear. His breath was hot against your neck as he slowly regained his senses- to a certain extent anyway. 

Not enough to break away from you just yet.

 “Sorry,” he managed, his voice hoarse. You shook your head, thumb tracing circles in the baggy fabric that separated you.

 “For what?”

 “Made a mess,” he said, giving a breathy, shy laugh that was music to your ears. You pressed a kiss to his palm, then brought his hand to rest over your cheek. You leaned into the warmth of it, enjoying the sweet way he was staring at you It was a far cry from the terrified expression he’d worn earlier.

 “Next time you can come inside me. Then you won’t have to worry about the dry cleaning.”

 He almost collapsed against you, trembling as he hid his blush against your neck.

 “You have to stop saying things like that kid. This old man might just keel over if you do.”

 There was nothing but warm affection in his voice when he said that and for once, you realized he wasn’t being hard on himself. Just playful. With you of all people. Granted, you had just made him come in his pants after he’d given you a spectacular hand job. 

You’d expect a little of his confidence to return in the afterglow- even if you knew you still had a long way to go before he was back to himself.

 “Hmm, you’d better not. I expect at least a thousand more orgasms like that before you get a break,” you said, resting your arms around his neck to play with his hair. Almost as though he was testing your boundaries (ha, they were long gone) he tentatively nuzzled and nipped a few light kisses along your jaw, his hands settling on your waist. It was nice, being this close to him without him stammering and making excuses to bolt.

 “Only a thousand?”

 “My bad. A million?”

 He was just about to steal another kiss from you when-

 “Are you two quite finished in there?”

 Like deer caught in headlights, both of your heads swivelled around towards the door- wide eyed and suddenly flushed with acute embarrassment as the realization dawned on you.

 Was that-?

 “I have to let the police up here eventually and I doubt either of you would enjoy being caught in a closet doing… whatever it is you’ve been doing. I could hazard a guess if you like, though,” Aizawa’s dry voice drifted through the slats in the door. “I could hear you both down the hall.”

 Before you could stop yourself, nervous giggles erupted from your throat.

 You muffled them in Toshi’s neck while he gaped stupidly in the direction of the door, and swiftly forgot what words were and how to use them. It took him a moment to find his voice again.

 “Shit,” he finally muttered but he made no move to release your legs from his waist- frozen to the spot and possibly about to die from all the blood rushing to his face.

 You got your shit together fairly quickly though.

 “Give us a moment, please Eraserhead,” you called out, still grinning like an idiot despite being caught doing something so out of character. For both of you. “Tell them it’s still dangerous up here or something.”

 “Shall I say there’s a banshee?”

“Just do it, you jerk,” you grumbled and you heard Aizawa grunt something in agreement before his footsteps faded down the hallway. Had you really both been that loud? Just how long had Shouta been standing guard exactly? You’d almost call him sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You could only guess how Toshinori felt.

 “Hey, lover boy. Come back to me,” you patted his cheek and brought his attention back you swiftly. His eyes found yours and you practically melted, forgetting what you were going to say and tugging him in for another kiss.

 He murmured your name against your lips after a few seconds, breathless and warm.

 “How can you be so calm?” he asked, cupping your cheek and looking at you in confusion.

 “I’m still on an orgasm high, I guess,” you answered honestly. It would hit you properly later you were sure, but right now Toshi was still achingly close between your legs and you were still giddy from coming so you could hardly feel much of anything other than satisfaction.

 “Oh,” he laughed shyly, finally lowering you back to your feet at long last. Your legs felt like jelly and you held onto him for support.

 You felt his eyes on you the entire time you were shakily pulling on your underwear and then your pants and you might have felt a little bit of a confidence boost at the hushed noise of loss he made when you were fully covered up again. You couldn’t resist the sudden urge to slide yourself against him- sighing contentedly when his arms came up to wrap around you.

 “Want me to stand in front of you until we can leave?” you asked, amused, kissing his Adam’s apple and he swore again, seemingly only just remembering that he’d come in his pants like a teenager.

 “I don’t think it’s too bad… I think my underwear got the worst of it.”

 You cocked your head to the side, finally looking up from where you’d been finding new places to kiss on his neck.

 “You wear underwear with your hero outfit?”

 “You… don’t?” he asked, clearly confused.

 Waggling your eyebrows at him, you flashed him a sinfully cheeky grin.

 “That’s something for you to think about the next time you see me in it, isn’t it?”

 He groaned loudly, tugging you closer and laying a kiss to the top of your head. The affection wasn’t at all unwelcome. How long had you been wanting this exactly? It felt like forever. You revelled in the sudden change in him, despite still being his skinny self. His shoulders weren’t as sloped now and his expression was almost playful.

 You couldn’t wait to see what he would look like when you got him into a bed- could barely focus on anything other than the thought of stripping him bare and riding him long and slow until he knew, for sure, that you wanted him just the way he was.

 You opened your mouth to tell him as much.

 “If you two don’t come out of there now, I’m coming in.”

 That was Aizawa’s teacher voice and you both sprang apart, muttering apologies through the wood. With a cough, you were suddenly half propelled out of the opening door by hard muscle- All Might behind you now instead of Toshinori- and came face to face with Aizawa.

 “Eraserhead,” you said meekly, your bravado suddenly wilting under his unamused stare. All Might ducked under the door frame behind you, his face beet red and looking everywhere but at the irritated pro hero. It was almost comical but you swallowed the nervous laugh that threatened to bubble up.

 As subtly as you could, you shifted in front of him- just in case his underwear hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping.

 “How… um, how much did you he-”

 “Everything from ‘Ow, what was that for’,” he answered before you could finish. Ah yes, when you’d slapped the back of Toshi’s head and he’d forgotten himself. Your eye twitched and All Might made a choked noise that sounded like he’d started to think of something to say . You opened your mouth to speak, but Aizawa brought a hand up and cut you off abruptly. “It might be none of my business but, how long has this been going on?”

 You cocked your head to the side. Not the question you’d been expecting admittedly but…

 “Just ah, it’s just been the closet. So far,” you tacked on quickly when you felt All Might tense slightly. He relaxed though, his fingers brushing yours behind your back. You could practically feel his eyes on you, curious and warm. You resisted the urge to grin like an idiot and wink at him.

 Aizawa grunted out a noise of... approval?

 “Good. Just making sure. Go home, both of you. We’re basically wrapped up for the night.”

 With that, he nodded and turned on his heels to walk away- leaving you both to stare after him. You only found your voice when he reached to top of the stairs and before he could disappear out of sight, you managed, “Wait! You’re not mad that we got distracted?”

 Aizawa paused, an unsettling and unfamiliar grin spreading across his face.

 “Hizashi owes me a rather large sum of money, thanks to you. What’s there to be mad at?” he said, in an oddly upbeat voice. He continued on his journey, disappearing from view as you gaped at his back.  But he had one more thing to throw back over his shoulder. “Oh and you might want to wrap a towel around your waist if you’re going to use the front door, All Might. There are eagle eyed reporters everywhere.”

 Well.

 Fuck.

[terrortalesv]

Starting a family

@tr85n asked for prompt #99 from that list, with Pam/Benson.

Human AU where Stella is the bio child of both of them.

Pam chews on a pen absently as she wanders into the breakroom to join her coworkers, who had already started their lunch break about ten minutes prior. Instantly, the smell of tuna and mayo hits her nose and makes her gag.

She steps out again and runs to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Leaning against the washbasin for a few seconds, she waits to see if the feeling will pass or get worse, sighing with relief when it goes away. Weird. What is going on lately? she thinks.

Pam looks at herself in the mirror again and leaves the bathroom.

When she returns, her colleagues welcome her back with strange stares. Fortunately, they are all no longer eating, so the food, including the dreaded tuna, is gone, though she swears some vague smells still linger. She tries to ignore it, and sits down.

“Uhh, yes?” Pam looks around at the group while she takes her salad from the fridge beside her.

“Pam? Is everything okay? You seem a little… off today,” Stefan takes the seat right next to her. His tone is sincere, maybe even a little worried, the giggle as he snatches a piece of tomato from her bowl decidedly less so. Pam tosses a glare his way.

She shoves a forkful of leaves into her mouth before speaking, “I don’t know, it’s really weird.” And then she rattles off the various things she’s been dealing with as of late. She describes the mood swings, the fatigue, the constant hunger, the nausea.

By the end of her spiel, Stefan and her other closest coworker, Tobias, are giving each other a strange look, as if they’re in on a secret, a piece of the puzzle that they want to reveal but aren’t exactly allowed to.

“Ohhh. I know what’s going on here,” Tobias says smugly. The other man chuckles.

Pam looks at him and puts more salad in her mouth, not bothering to ask him to elaborate. She knows he will regardless.

“Obviously somebody’s pregnant,” Tobias leans over the table, close to her face, and says in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooohhh! Uh-oh!” Stefan teases.

Pam’s eyes widen and she almost chokes on some cracked pepper. After a few brief seconds, she comes to her senses.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. It’s probably just that bug that’s been going around,” she tells them, and continues eating.

“Actually, yeah, maybe it is,” one of their older colleagues chimes in as he gets up to leave the breakroom.

“Psh, yeah. Whatever you say,” Tobias teases. He rolls his eyes and then he and his friend exit the room to go back to work, leaving Pam alone.

She sighs into her salad bowl and stabs at the remaining leaves with her fork. “Pregnant? Yeah, really funny, guys. No way,” she laughs to herself, but those strange symptoms linger in the back of her mind and she begins to have doubts.

No, but we haven’t even been trying. Besides, I’m way past that age anyway, right? Obviously it’s just a coincidence and they were messing with me. Yeah. You’re not pregnant, Pam, stop thinking about that.

She doesn’t stop thinking about it. She spends most of the next few hours thinking about it, convincing herself she’s not pregnant, that that was just a stupid joke those guys were telling, and then doubting herself.

She continues like this for a while, until she steps into one room to check on the equipment and sees something that catches her eye. She remembers their boss telling them about this thing, a super new, super high-tech machine that allows the user to see inside anything. She remembers her telling them about how this device was not only better than a standard x-ray machine, but safer.

Pam thinks for a moment. I mean, I already know I’m not pregnant. But what’s the harm in just having a little look-see, right?

She checks to see if there’s anyone watching her and closes the blinds just in case someone might walk by. Breathing a sigh, Pam presses some buttons on the device, listens as it whirs to life, and steps behind it.

She has to wait a few minutes before an image appears on the whiteboard to her right. All the usual things are there, nothing seems amiss. That is, until she shifts her eyes to her lower belly area, where a tiny, strange shape sits. 

Her heart sinks and the nausea returns with a vengeance. She looks away from the screen, breathing heavily. Whatever it is, upon first glance it looks unlike anything that would ordinarily be inside a healthy human body. Pam swallows, although the dryness in her mouth doesn’t so easily allow it.

What is that? Some kind of weird mass in my stomach. Oh, no. It can’t be. Is this how I’m going to die? I should’ve caught this so much sooner, it’s probably way too late to deal with it now. But maybe I should book in with a doctor anyway, see if they can—

She shakes her head. Slowly she comes to her senses, though her heart rate and breathing take longer to return to normal.

“It’s okay, Pam. You’re not dying. At least not yet. Let’s just take a better look at this thing and then make our assumptions,” she tells herself.

She cautiously cranes her neck to look at the board again and takes more notice of the shape. One part of it is much larger, and the other has four small… things sticking out from it. She swears she sees a tiny human in that shape, as strange as it sounds, with the big head and teeny-tiny limbs. Wait.

Hand over face, Pam slowly steps away from the machine and turns it off. The picture is still projected on the wall. She stares wordlessly, eyes wide, hands slipping down to her belly. She’s unsure if she should be concerned or happy.

A million thoughts race through her mind at once, not daring to leave her alone for even a second, as much as she tries to ignore them. She wanders the halls of the vast laboratory, pretending to work whenever someone else is nearby, but spends the remainder of the work day too distracted to actually do anything.

How am I going to tell Benson? How is he going to react? Does he even want to be a dad? He seems perfectly content with just the pets. And what about me? Am I even cut out to be a mom? The animals are kind of a handful already, how are we possibly going to deal with a kid?

When Pam arrives home, she walks past the throng of cats that greet her at the door, enters their bedroom and flops down on the bed, exhausted.

She tells herself she’s only going to lie down for an hour, but wakes up several hours later to the sound of her husband setting the table for dinner. Groggily, she gets up and stumbles out to the kitchen.

Benson’s head snaps up at the sound of her footsteps and he smiles at her. She loves that smile, so much so that it causes all her worries to fade away. But not for very long.

“Hey! Sleep well?” He puts an arm around her and kisses her on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Pam offers him a tired smile and sits down at her usual chair. Benson quickly follows, tucking her chair in for her and then sitting down himself. He scoops up some pesto linguine and plops it onto both of their plates, then grabs a piece of garlic bread and takes a bite out of it. Pam tries her best to eat as much as she can, but her mind is still elsewhere. Benson notices.

“Pam, honey? You okay? You don’t look like yourself tonight,” Benson reaches a hand across the table to grab hers and gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Um, oh, I…” she sighs, turning her hand over to give his a squeeze, “can I tell you something?” Her heart races and she sips from a glass of water in an attempt to ease her dry mouth. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Who knows, maybe putting it out there and telling him will help calm my nerves.

“Yeah, of course,” her husband looks her in the eye with a smile, voice as calm and comforting as he can possibly make it. He takes another bite of bread.

“I…” she has to clear her throat, “I’m pregnant.”

Pam watches Benson’s face. He takes a moment to process her words, then his expression goes blank and he coughs up some crumbs. A strange combination of concern and surprise paints his pale, bearded face. Slowly, a large grin appears and the tips of his ears turn pink. Pam swears she’s never seen him look so in love.

“Oh, my god… Are you for real? We’re gonna be parents? I’m gonna be a dad?” Benson whispers, almost a squeal.

“Benson? You okay?”

He wipes that tear from his eye before answering, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m great.” He gets up from his chair, seemingly completely forgetting about the food on his plate, and kneels in front of her. He gently wraps his arms around her and presses his fleshy, weathered cheek against her belly.

“We’re having a bay-bee,” he says, in a high-pitched, sing-song voice that Pam has never heard before, even after all these years.

Later that night, as they’re lying in bed facing each other, Benson gives Pam a kiss on the nose and whispers, “I’m so excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

‘I know, you keep saying that,” she giggles.

“Well, I can’t help it. We’re having a baby. Together. Don’t you think that’s… the best?” He moves some hair out of her eye with a finger.

Pam can only respond with a tired “mm-hmm” as she closes her eyes. Benson carefully presses a cold, calloused hand to her belly and she shivers.

“Sorry,” he tilts his head toward where his hand is sitting, “we’re so excited to meet you, baby.”

“You know it can’t hear yet, dad.”

“Dad…” just from the tone of his voice, Pam can tell Benson likes the sound of that.